When Death Does us Part
by poisonedapple13
Summary: "I will find you again someday. And nobody will stop me. I promise." Overtaken with emotion, the larger man re-enveloped him a hug, "Go. Take a horse, take anything you need. I'll distract him." His hand came up to brush coppery hair out of his lover's face, "I'll be waiting beside God for you." And for the moment, both could take faith in that.
1. Can't Even Shout

**This is dedicated to the Romano to my spain and my larping buddy, Sara. Without her, my stories most likely wouldn't be possible. Thank you Sara ^^**

* * *

A_ quiet shuffle signaled that the door was opening causing the bottom of the oversized slab of wood molded with age to groan painfully against the dirtied stone floor, providing the moon allowance to penetrate the barn with her sheer curtain of silvery light. A man in the back of the large enclosure rose from his bed of hay due to the sound, peering at the silhouette entering through the doorway. The figure walked gracefully across the floor, prompting the noises and protests of animals trying to get their night's rest in, though those noises were quickly subdued as the moon-shrouded form knelt before the barn boy, a soft whimper of defeat and fear leaving his mouth. Immediately, the smaller of the figures leaned forward to place slim fingers and a callused palm against his cheek, vainly attempting to calm the terrified pants emitting from the other's lips. The larger individual clasped his own hand above the other's, tilting his head into the warmth and ease it provided from the softest of touches._

_After a moment of wordless communication, the larger mumbled out in a voice so serious it would freeze Hell over, "I'm going to die tonight." Through the realization, there was a deep underlying tone of trepidation that would break anybody's heart to hear, especially coming from the man who said it._

_The younger said nothing, trying to deal with the sudden shock of the statement without causing alarm, though his hand tensed slightly against the elder's cheek. "Are you certain?"_

_He nodded, shoulders slumping as if some unseen weight had finally dealt its damage, briskly applying chapped lips to wrist of the palm upon his cheek. "Sí. He's going to find me, and then he'll find you. You need to run, __**now,**__ and get out of here while you can…" his eyes glowed with his plea, barely visible in the darkness of the barn. The younger could only stare up at him, willing his body to do something, __**anything.**_

_"I can't leave you…" he was finally able to whimper out, teeth clenching into his lip as he lowered his head, now heavy with unreleased tears. A splash of copper taste penetrated his mouth and he vaguely realized that he bit a little too hard, "I just can't."_

_The elder immediately slid back onto his haunches and sat upon the ground, pulling the other with him. He wrapped his arms around the younger tightly, and in return, he could feel hands sliding to wrap around him as well. They sat like that for a while; breathing in each other's scents for what they knew could very well be the last time. Pulling back slightly, the larger man caught the other's chin and tilted it up, meeting him in a heart wrenching kiss. They both kissed sweetly, pouring in their emotions for one another in the small, tingling contact that tasted of valediction and farewell. They both separated for air, and the smaller fisted his hands on his partner's back. "I __**will**__ find you again someday." His breath washed over the elder's face, smelling of resolution, "And nobody will stop me. I promise."_

_Overtaken with emotion, the larger man re-enveloped him a hug, "Go. Take a horse, take anything you need. I'll distract him." His hand came up to brush coppery hair out of his lover's face, "I'll be waiting beside God for you."_

_And for the moment, both could take faith in that. _

_As he stood up to leave, the elder pressed a cold, firm item into his lover's hand, previously extracted from his boot. The younger immediately knew what it was and he hissed into the darkness, "You'll need this, idiot!"_

_Chuckling morosely, he kissed his head, "You take it. I won't need it for much longer."_

_And with that, the other was gone, slipping into the night like a puff of frigid air into the wind. _

…

"…I bought this house for surprisingly really cheap! Well, considering what it _could_ have cost."

What was that annoying sound constantly invading his thoughts? Oh, right. His grandfather was talking. Sighing soundlessly, Lovino Vargas refocused his attention on the ever-changing landscape outside of the car window. The steady onslaught of blurred motion made his stomach queasy, but he forced that down. He didn't have to listen to his body. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. Besides that, it was so much easier to center his awareness on the world constantly changing before him than it was to listen to his grandfather drone on about the new house he had bought.

A new house, he had said.

A fresh start, he had said.

He may as well have said this was his way of running from his disappointment of a grandson.

"I really like the area you chose, Grandpa!" His brother, the ever-happy Feliciano, chirped with enthusiasm.

His grandfather beamed happily, obviously proud with both the compliment _and_ his decision to move to this location. Lovino could just picture him flash the classic Vargas grin at Feliciano, excitement dripping from his pores like hormones from some teenager.

Hell, he shouldn't be talking. He himself was a teenager.

"I think you'll love it here, Lovino," the elderly man directed his attention to his oldest grandchild through the aid of the rearview mirror, watching as the auburn haired boy jumped from being addressed. "You can start anew, nothing holding you back."

Lovino regarded the eyes staring at him in the mirror, and then shifted his gaze to some blemish in the leather seat in front of him. "We'll see." He stated simply.

Feliciano, occupying the front seat, twisted his torso to look at his older brother, granting him one of his sweet smiles, "I'm so glad you're home, _fratello_." He stated genuinely, though the sentence was nothing new. He had been saying it almost every time the chance crept into view, grasping onto it with sticky fingers to make Lovino aware of how much he had missed him.

"I've been home for two weeks now, idiot." Lovino replied, regarding the small forest outside his window with apparent boredom. Really. His brother could be so repetitive…

"No, really though. I missed you so-," He cut off as the watch upon Lovino's slender wrist beeped to life, emitting high pitched tones into the car. Annoyed at the sound as if it were chiding him, Lovino clicked the button to silence it, and then reached down between his legs for his pack. Feliciano watched in soundless curiosity as his brother fiddled with a stubborn zipper only to grunt in frustration, hoisting the thing onto his lap to get a better angle on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Feliciano staring, and flicked his eyes up to glare bitterly at the younger.

"Take a fucking picture, dickmint." He dared him, instantly regretting his words but refusing to let the unwanted feeling bubble out of his cold demeanor. Feliciano winced as if the words had actually inflicted him harm, sending one last sympathetic look to his brother before turning back around in his seat.

_I don't __**need**__ his damn sympathies,_Lovino growled to himself, finally able to fish out the orange capsule. With a bit of pressure, he was able to pop off the top and slipped a tiny tablet of Geodon into his palm.

God how he despised that pill. He despised the way it was forced down his throat, followed quickly by a speedy gush of water to wash away any remnants of the way it felt slithering along his esophagus. Why did he even take it? Sometimes he could swear it did absolutely nothing; for all he knew, it was actually poisoned. He wouldn't blame his grandfather for wanting him dead. Hell, sometimes, he wanted _himself_ dead.

He replaced his pack down at his feet, taking comfort in the way its weight pressed against his shins like some old friend comforting another, and then stared at his hands in mild interest. He liked the way the slender digits moved, bending and unraveling at his will. He could do anything with these fingers.

"So, this is the local town, boys!" his grandfather called out, attempting to repair the broken silence that had now filled the car. "If you look just over there, you can see the top of the high school you'll be going to!"

Just for the sake of looking, Lovino flicked his pupils towards the direction the old man had been referring to. Sure enough, he could see the top of the browned building peeking up over the trees, leering at him as if to say he escaped from one Hell to another. He turned his eyebrows down in a glare directed at the building, hoping to quell away any premonitions he'd get. That or his medicine would kick in and tell him that it's wrong and he was just being crazy.

However, the thoughts still came, and he could feel the building whispering masked threats at him, calling to him to attempt surviving within its halls, _daring_ him to try.

Lovino ripped his eyes away and focused his attention on his knees, his white-knuckled hands clasped desperately together as if he was the only person he could hold onto. A slight, white pin prick of pain dotted along his palm, and he forced himself to unclench his hands, staring at the skin as if it had personally wronged him. Three deep crescents lined the flesh, stunningly dark compared to the rest of his hand.

Why was he so overwrought? It was just a building… Ah, yes. He could feel the medicine flowing through his system, balancing his brain's chemicals temporarily for him to make rational thoughts and discern reality from fantasy. Just a building. Perhaps he could actually enjoy school this year. Maybe he'd be accepted, as long as nobody knew about him. He could go gallivanting in with the bad-boy-with-a-dark-past attitude and have girls just _desperate_ to be on his arms. Boys, too. The thought alone made him laugh giddily, causing his brother and grandfather to share a concerned look before his grandfather addressed him, "What's so funny, Lovino?"

Lovino attempted silencing himself, only succeeding in reducing his laugh to a slight chuckle and met his grandfather's reflected eyes, "It's nothing."

The elder man raised an eyebrow before returning to driving, trying to pretend this behavior was normal.

Though it wasn't.

Lovino blocked out the rest of the conversation his grandfather and brother were sharing, instead tuning his focus on his inner thoughts and the trees whizzing past their car. Would he get better, combining the new atmosphere and the Geodon? Would he be able to walk down the streets one day, confident enough in himself to say "hello world. I am sane!" _God_, if that day were to come, he would be a better person: He'd give up his spiky attitude to people, he'd donate to charity, and he'd volunteer at fucking _animal shelters_. He'd do anything to be able to call himself sane.

The landscape changed slightly within the next fifteen minutes. The trees went from small and thin to quite tall; and the forest seemed to deepen considerably. In Lovino's opinion, it glowered at him, calling to him to join the shadows. He also became aware of a sense of…_secrecy_ that the trees held. As if a long time ago, something bad had happened here only they knew of, and that scared him. He made a mental decision to keep away from the deeper parts, for something told him he wouldn't want to have those secrets unlocked.

"There it is," His grandfather said, the words cutting into his thoughts. Intrigued, Lovino turned his head forward to view the house appearing before him, and was immediately frozen in shock.

_Dear God…_

"Wow!" Feliciano chirped, voicing the thoughts on everybody's mind. Truthfully, Lovino couldn't find any other words to describe the house—no, fucking _mansion_,-that sat a few hundred feet behind wrought iron gates. It was made out of grey stone, towering about three floors above his head and then tapering into dangerous looking points. The house had three of these peaks, and one of them had a small balcony facing east, where he knew a body of water sat a few miles out. _Widow's walk,_ his mind supplied for him. They were built for women to watch the horizon, waiting to see if their husband's ship would come home. Ivy crept up the front of the house, seemingly attempting to swallow up the residence in its tendrils.

Grandfather stopped in front of the gate, quickly hopping out to unlock and swing it open with a painful creak, then hopping back in to take them up the rest of the driveway.

Suddenly, having a politician for a grandfather had its perks.

"How is nobody living here?" Lovino asked disbelievingly.

"Well for about a century, the historical foundation had full custody of the house. They sold it around fifty years ago to a family who only lived there for twenty years, then they moved out and have been attempting to sell it since then. That's why it's so cheap; it's been on the market for nearly forever. I was really surprised nobody had bought it yet."

It surprised Lovino as well. Despite the obvious wear of age, the house was in impeccable condition. That family had obviously gone to great lengths to keep it in good shape: shiny windows were installed, the hedges were maintained, the grass was green, and the forest that surrounded the house was kept at bay. It was like a house from a fairy tale, and any minute the ugly stepsisters would burst forth and demand petty things.

As they approached the front doorsteps, Lovino could pick out the minute irregularities that age had bestowed on the house. A large crack ran down the stone steps, the large wooden doors looked brittle, and the overall color of the house looked dull and worn-down. However, he actually liked the injuries the house flaunted, they provided character.

Feliciano wasted no time in throwing the door open and then prancing out, set to explore the vast property. Lovino and his grandfather watched as he disappeared around the house, his laughter following with him.

"I really hope you like it here, Lovino," His grandfather smiled at him, turning around in the seat.

Lovino met his grandfather's kind eyes, unsure of how he wanted to reply to the old man. The good thing would be to reply honestly, tell him that Lovino was scared things would get worse, but of course Lovino never went with the good thing.

"Yeah, whatever." With that, Lovino pushed his door open and shouldered his backpack, refusing to glance back at the old man but freezing as he saw another car heading up the driveway. "Uh…Grandpa?"

"That must be the old owner, he's just coming to give us the keys," His grandfather assured him, stepping out and locking the car. The other vehicle approached them, tires crunching loudly on the gravel. Lovino regarded it apprehensively, not wanting to trust the middle aged man driving the thing.

"Hello, you must be Mr. Vargas," The man said to Lovino's grandfather after climbing out of his car.

"That I am," the eldest Vargas offered his hand. The owner took it, shaking his forearm slightly before releasing. "I'm ready to see the inside of my new home!"

The man laughed and fished out a set of keys, handing them to Lovino's grandfather, "Well what are you waiting for then? I can't stay long, so here are some final papers I need you to sign before I leave."

Bored by the adult's conversation, Lovino set to finding his brother, who had disappeared somewhere behind the house. Upon turning the corner, Lovino's eyes were greeted by a large backyard stretching in either direction at least a few hundred feet. Way in the back was a large barn or stable-type thing and to his left fifty feet was a willow tree, its boughs swaying close to the ground. It could be a beautiful yard with some with some work; perhaps they could install a pond. Or a pool. A pool would work nicely.

"Feliciano, where are you?" He called, walking further into the yard.

"I'm over here, Lovi!" His brother replied, providing Lovino with a direction to move to. He found Feliciano rather quickly, who was working on trying to pry cellar doors open.

"Idiot, you need a key," Lovino grumbled, coming to stand next to Feli.

"But look, there are no key holes," the younger pointed out, straightening to stand up. He was right, the metal doors seemed to have nothing keeping them closed, at least from this side.

"I'll bet that it's padlocked from the inside," Lovino concluded, suddenly curious to get inside. "Anyways, Grandpa has the keys now. We should go take a look inside."

"Yeah! Come on!" Feliciano grabbed Lovino's hand and dragged him back around to the front, to find that the doors had already been opened. Feliciano wasted no time in bounding up the stairs and prancing inside, having given up the holding hands thing. Lovino moved much too slow for his liking. Lovino followed him in, and was taken aback once more.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside, if not more. The entrance opened up to a large foyer floored with some type of dark wood, a little worn down, but still beautiful. A staircase sat on the furthest right corner next to the opening that led to another room. A door immediately to the left of him was closed, as was the door immediately to the right of him. Entranced, he walked into the room just beyond the foyer, and saw a large stone fireplace set in the wall. The room was wide, obviously meant to be a living room of sorts, and that led to the dining hall. Which was huge. The dining hall had a door that led to the kitchen, causing the Italian's heart to thump happily as he walked through that door. He found Feliciano in there, gaping stupidly just as he knew he was doing himself. Large cupboards, a gas burning stove and oven, racks for hanging pots, two pantries, a huge refrigerator, brand new appliances…it was heaven. Plain and simple.

Their grandfather walked in momentarily after them, grinning at the expressions his grandchildren fashioned. They had way too much house for the three of them, he knew, but he wasn't upset with his decision. Perhaps they could hire live-in staff to fill the open spaces.

"Boys, you should go choose your rooms. Almost every room here still has its original furniture, though some of it has been updated or auctioned off. Isn't that great? We don't need to buy too much crap to fill this place up!" He was obviously excited with that fact as well, "There is technically only one more floor, and then the third floor is just attic. We could probably find antiques up there then go sell them off, wouldn't that be neat? If it's all original, we could earn a lot of money from it."

Lovino had already cut out his grandfather, making his way back to the staircase. He fixed his backpack, and then started the trek up, ignoring the protests of the floorboards. The house was spectacular, anybody had to admit to that, but something was off about it. He didn't feel as if it were _his_ house. He felt as if he were a guest staying for an extended period of time. Is that how most people felt when they moved, or was it just him? He really couldn't decide if it was normal or not.

"Wow..." Feli whispered, causing Lovino to jump. He hadn't noticed the boy there. "Isn't this house just amazing?"

"It's pretty cool I guess," Lovino replied, poking his head into the first room he saw. It had a large bed with a green comforter on it and a wardrobe took up most of a wall. He instantly disliked it for the color, it was _too_ green.

"What do you mean 'pretty cool'? It's _really_ cool!" The younger corrected him, following closely behind his brother like a lost puppy. They viewed a few more rooms before Lovino opened one up, the farthest room on the right, and then froze.

This was definitely his room.

Red wallpaper covered the walls, deep and crimson as the reddest of roses. The bed was bigger than most he had seen so far, yet it only covered up half of the left wall. A window looked out over the backyard and as he walked further into the room, he was satisfied to find a vanity, a wardrobe, and low and behold…a fucking_ fireplace._ This room was his, he had now claimed it.

"I call this one!" he shouted into the house, plopping himself on the bed. His voice echoed oddly through the wooden structure, coming back to resonate in his ear with the one thing he had come to call his companion: loneliness. He sighed, turning onto his stomach to stare out the window at the clouds that had decided to cover the sky. He was alone, no matter what his family said. They couldn't _comprehend_ what he was going through, or even who he was as a person. He didn't ever expect them too, but this whole lonesome thing was getting nostalgic.

With nothing else to do, he decided to unpack his overnight stuff, knowing the moving truck wouldn't be there until morning. He pulled out everything from his pack, taking great care to place the Geodon on the bedside table before he forgot, and then worked on deciding what each drawer or shelf in the room could be used for.

Suddenly, he whirled around, swearing he had heard somebody exhale in his room. The noise itself started to make his heart beat erratically, and he prayed that he was just hearing things and it had nothing to do with his…his…_illness._

Nothing was there, and no other noises made themselves known.

_It's just the house, Lovino, _he told himself, going back to what he was doing, _and old houses make noises all the time. _

For the time being, he could rely on that assurance.


	2. Can't Even Cry

_Now I lay me down to sleep  
__I pray the Lord my soul to keep  
If I shall die before I wake  
I pray the Lord my soul to take_

_Amen_

When Lovino woke up that morning, his awareness was greeted by the beeping of what sounded to be a large truck and the shouts of what he assumed to be stereotypical large framed movers. He didn't particularly want to get out of the warm, comforting hold that rest had bestowed him, especially not if it meant dealing with people he didn't know. He ran through the choices in his head of what he could do for the next few hours or so, and resolved to start reading the book he had brought. It seemed more rewarding than getting up or making an effort to do something. His backpack, which still held most of his things due to his abandonment of unpacking, sat at the foot of the bed. Amongst clothes and various other items, it held his book, and that meant he would have to remove his covers and get it. He sighed, finding no other way around it, kicking off the comforter and crawling over to fish his book out of the pack.

It was strange, sleeping in this room. He blamed the odd feeling solely on the fact he wasn't used to it, but he knew that had to be wrong. There was just…_something_ about this house, this room in particular, which was off. Perhaps it was the undistinguishable feeling of how old it was, almost like talking to an elderly war veteran. This room gave him a similar feeling as to that, like he had to be quiet and respective. He wondered… if he were to disturb the peace of this room, would the room disturb the only bits of peace he had left? It was a terrifying thought, it gave him the sensation that he was being watched, pondered over. As if the room was trying to decide if he was worthy enough to stay. He felt eyes watch him stick his rump out in the air; desperately trying to find his book so he could lie down and feel less vulnerable. It raised the tiny hairs on the back of his neck and arms, drenching him in the unmistakable feeling that if he were to just _turn around—_

Paranoia peaking, Lovino whirled his head around, facing the wall with the door to the room. He had to clasp a hand over his mouth to keep from shrieking, freezing over as a pair of big, impossibly green eyes stared back at him. He refused to blink or even move, locked in a staring contest with those emerald irises.

Suddenly feeling stupid, he relaxed his muscles and regarded the painting with interest. How had he not noticed that before? Shifting on his bed to get a better position, he looked over the portrait with a critic's eyes. It was of a man, a boy really, with dark chestnut hair accenting the flecks of russet in his eyes. Whoever painted it had a skilled hand for detail, enhancing the boy's already tanned skin with a dust of freckles over his nose. His eyes had hues of gold and chocolate, shining jovially with happiness and mischief, yet they had an undertone of painful trepidation, as if this youth was troubled beyond belief. He wore a black shirt that hung loosely from his broad shoulders along with an iron crucifix lying just underneath his collarbone.

_Hot damn…_ Lovino couldn't help but whistle soundlessly. Whoever this guy was, he was one attractive piece. Intrigued, the boy climbed out of bed to inspect the portrait. When was it painted? He lifted the bottom up to peer at the back of it, hoping to find a date.

"_Antonio"_

_August 28, 1848_

_F. Bonnefoy_

Holy shit. 1848? That was a few decades short of two centuries ago. This painting was _old_ and in remarkable condition. The previous owners really kept this house in shape.

As he kept his eyes on the painting, he almost felt…_bad_ for the boy. Those eyes revealed a life of pain and possibly terror, and more likely than not, loneliness as well. Lovino was suddenly grasped with the wanton desire to just reach out and stroke the painting's face, to tell the boy that he doesn't have to be alone anymore. A strange feeling of appreciation washed over Lovino, and he almost felt like the emerald streaks of paint…_understood_. Shaking his head, he pushed the sensation away, reminding himself that he still needed to take his morning dose.

He stared at it for a few last minutes, and then started reading his book; however, his mind didn't pay attention or register the words his eyes skimmed over, instead throwing him into his thoughts. He did that a lot, just thought. It would either help him out, or it would stress him even more than before. He found himself mostly thinking about the Hell he had just returned from, pondering why he had to go there in the first place. At the moment, he wondered why he hated it so much. Sure, the nurses were jackasses and they treated him as if he was stupid, but the food was okay and the bed was comfortable. The small recreation area (really just an outdoor walkway with a minuscule pond and plenty of foliage) was lovely and they allowed him to sketch all he wanted…it was like being served and waited upon, it should have been heaven.

But then again, it wasn't like that at all. It was like he and his fellow patients were troublesome children, sent to a new daycare since the others couldn't handle them. Perhaps that's why he hated it, he wasn't a _child_, and he could handle himself… He didn't need a damn maid in scrubs to tell him to take his pill, or to escort him to the lunch room, or to make sure he didn't try to kill himself with a plastic spoon. As if he'd even take his life with a boring spoon. He'd want to go with a bang, to make people wonder why he had to go through such lengths. He wondered if he did die, would people wonder about his life? Like when you read in history books about famous people and you wonder how they lived. Would people wonder what he liked on his cereal or if he enjoyed staying up at night to watch the moon make its pilgrimage for sunlight across the sky, toting along the stars as companions?

Vaguely, Lovino found himself wondering about the book's main character, Jeanne d'Arc. What was she like alive? In person? She had to have been lonely…

He frowned, setting down the book. It started to depress him. Could he someday save lives like the French girl? He doubted it, but then again, you never know. She started out as a peasant child and then became a war hero. Lovino had qualms about becoming a war hero, but maybe if he tried hard enough he could be something great.

Mindlessly, Lovino peeled himself off of the bed to go examine the fireplace. He crouched, ignoring the slight pain in his knee from the joint popping and the groan of a loose floorboard, grabbing one of the metal rods lying next to the opening to poke at the ash collected in the bottom. Was this ash made from the burning fire of the previous owner…or had the green eyed boy in the painting created the powder, attempting to keep himself warm during chilly nights two hundred years ago. Lovino liked to think it was two hundred year old ash; it seemed more intriguing that way. As he disturbed the probable century-long slumber the dust had ensued, a small cloud rose and billowed up the shaft. It irritated his eyes, causing him to squint and eventually stop playing around in it, throwing down the rod with a huff.

"Fratello!" A loud greeting came from his brother who pushed open the door without knocking (like usual) and burst into the room, "fratello, come help us—Woah! Who's this?"

Lovino turned around to see Feliciano peering curiously at the picture on his wall, eyes sparked with intrigue and wonder, "Is this original?"

"I think so," Lovino answered, taking the few steps to stand next to him. "It's pretty good, isn't it?"

"Is there a name somewhere?"

"It says 'Antonio' on the back; I think that's the kid in the picture."

"No, I meant the artist…but the kid is pretty nice looking."

"Meh, shut up. Some guy named Bonnefoy painted it, I think."

"Hm…" Feliciano got a thoughtful expression, pinching his chin between his fingers, "the name sounds familiar. I should look it up—OH! That reminds me, you should _see_ the library here! They're mostly really old books so they're boring, but I found a whole section dedication to medicine. It's really neat reading about how early forms of medicine were practiced."

"Oh really?" Lovino's tone was uninterested, "That's cool. Why'd you barge into my room anyways?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah! Grandpa wants you to come down and help us unload all of the boxes," he frowned as Lovino's face fell, "I know you don't want to deal with people but…this is practice for school, yeah?"

Lovino frowned. He had tried to put interaction and socializing deep down on his agenda, for he _really_ didn't want to handle people because…well, people weren't exactly his thing. Whatsoever.

"I'll be right down," He sighed, sitting on his bed that made a similar sound. The springs creaked and cracked, making Lovino wonder how he got any sleep that night. From somewhere outside, a bird started screaming, annoying Lovino in the way a small child would pester its sibling. He desperately wanted to fling open the window and scream back at it, see how much the damn bird liked it when things were screeching at _him_.

Feliciano smiled, paced backwards towards the door, "Thanks, Lovi. Grandpa's making breakfast, too. See you in a few." The youngest Vargas then stepped into the dimly lit hallway, closing the door with one last sweet glance at his fratello.

Lovino's mind had already started to go through possible situations. It could go just fine, nothing bad happening with the movers whatsoever. Or…or, they could stare him down with an intimidating leer, judging him for everything he's worth. The second circumstance was improbable, he knew, for the movers most likely knew nothing about his disease, unless his Grandfather told them.

_Oh God…_He felt horror bubble up his spine, spreading to his fingers and chest like an icy jolt of electricity. _What if he __**wants**__ me embarrassed, criticized? What if the old man moved us here so that I'd be miserable…just like I made __**him**__ miserable?_

A white-hot flash of pain invaded the numb terror his body was experiencing, crimson liquid flowing from his wrist to dabble on the dark wood and match the room's décor. Shocked from the sudden bout of pain, he examined his wrist to see he had ripped open a nearly healed scar in his anxiety. Great. Just great. Grandpa wouldn't be happy with him…

_"Why…pain…yourself?"_

Lovino froze, eyes shooting wide. That was a voice. That was a clear as day voice. Oh God, not now, not here…please…

He refused to answer the voice, instead diving for his Geodon. Somehow his hands seemed clumsy, like during the night somebody had glued his knuckles in place. He fought desperately to pop the cap off the orange bottle, sheer panic tearing through him in the form of a raging cry, emitting from his lips when he failed to open the bottle once again.

_"Please…calm…" _the voice soothed, or at least mimicked soothing. Lovino knew how they worked, they did everything they could to trick him, to get him to trust them. They were _demons_, not voices.

"Stay the hell away from me!" He hissed, eyes blurring from tears. He couldn't see the arrows to line the cap up with the bottle anymore, so he fumbled blindly, wrestling to get the damn contraption open. Finally, the popping noise of the thing opening greeted his ears, a sound he never knew he'd be relieved to hear. He stuck two fingers into the smooth cylinder, fishing out a pill to place on his tongue, in which he swallowed dry.

The room was silent.

His mind was silent.

Satisfied that the demon had listened to him, he rubbed his eyes to ban away any more tears. Hopefully the pill would help him while downstairs in the midst of strangers, maybe it would help him stay calm. Right now, though, he was still on edge, his back stiffened and ears straining much like an alarmed cat.

His ears roared as the silence was broken.

_"You…hear me?" _That damn voice…it sounded so…_disbelieving._ However, it was also broken, like somebody talking through a radio on a low signal.

Taking deep, soothing breaths, Lovino placed his hands on his ears. That technically did nothing, but his therapist inside the hospital told him that if he did it, he could trick his mind into thinking he was ignoring any sort of voice. The particles in the room seemed charged, as antsy as he was even, and they danced against his skin and tensed aura.

_"Please, tell me…hear me,"_ The voice pleaded, trying to get Lovino to converse with it. However, Lovino was stronger than that. He knew not to speak to or even think about these things, that was how he let them win. But the voice seemed to be getting stronger with each garbled sentence that Lovino heard, which was alarming. He didn't need to fear, though; once the Geodon entered his system, he would be able to tell his mind that this influence wasn't real, thus allowing Lovino to go about his day as normal.

Another alarming thing was that this voice was new. In his entire life, the only voices he had heard had been the same two, but they vanished after his trip to the hospital. Perhaps because he moved to a new place, he was hearing a new voice? That would make sense…didn't make it any more pleasant, though.

An inaudible sigh escaped invisible lips. It sent the atmosphere of the room into depressed disappointment, almost saddening Lovino as well. He didn't mean to hurt the-

He stopped himself mid-thought. This was what the voice wanted, it wanted Lovino to feel bad for it so that it could worm its way into the Italian's sub consciousness, making Lovino do something bad and resulting in another trip to the hospital.

_Don't worry, Lovino, _he told himself, slowly lessening the pressure over his ears, _the Geodon will kick in any moment. _

So he waited for it to kick in, to tell him that the voice he heard wasn't real, that it was all a piece of his overactive imagination. He could feel the relief it brought, causing his overwrought mind to sigh in liberation. It was almost amusing now to think about how upset he had been over the incident. Now relaxed, he removed his hands, pausing for a slight moment to listen in on any sounds in the room. He heard nothing abnormal, just the normal creaks that these old houses made.

Feeling confident once more, he walked to the opposite side of his bed to empty his backpack's contents onto the mattress. He then chose a shirt and a pair of pants, slipped them on (ignoring the feeling of being watched), and made his way downstairs to start what would inevitably be a long and grueling day.

Outside, the bird still cawed, laughing in disdain.

.-

_It was dark where he lay, though the darkness did nothing to him anymore. For the first few decades after, he had been terrified of the dark, terrified of the hole he currently lay in. Now it wasn't so scary, it was more nostalgic. Besides, time passed faster in the dark, which brought him to his current dilemma: how many years had he been sitting there? Normally he was pretty good with time, but he lost count after going back and remembering the last few months of his life. Or, as he liked to say, the __**best**__ few months of his life. _

_However, reliving those days didn't solve anything, and right now they had caused even more problems. He supposed he should get up, go see if there was any evidence upstairs of what year it was, but the dark was so disturbingly comforting. _

_**Ah…I do miss the sun though.**__He found himself thinking, remembering the sun's rays as they hit his skin, darkening it to a rich caramel color. He could also remember a certain boy lying next to him, the calluses on his palms as their fingers intertwined…_

_**No. Stop right there, you don't need to relive it again. **_

_But his mind had something different planned. He didn't want to go back for a walkthrough of those beautiful days, he instead thought of what had happened to that boy. Did he ever make it out? Did he have kids with a beautiful girl? What if he named one of those kids 'Antonio'? _

_That made him chuckle slightly. It was an amusing thought, though it made him worry slightly. What if that boy (whose name he refused to think about at the moment) had made it into God's Kingdom? Was he waiting for something that would never come?_

_Tears pricked his eyes. He had __**promised**__ that he'd wait for the boy there, only to break that promise. Somehow, someday, he hoped to get up there, to finally see his precious querido again. _

_A slight disturbance is what finally made him get up, curiosity causing him to drift through the painfully empty house. An old man entered the foyer with another, slightly obese man. The older man gaped at the architecture the house flaunted, causing both himself and the obese man to smile. They moved on to the living room and would eventually go to the kitchen; he could feel their presences as they walked throughout the house. There were two more beings somewhere around, probably in the backyard. He didn't really care much; it was just another family to go through._

_The first family that moved into his house angered him. It was one thing for the historical society to own the property; it was a completely different thing when a whole __**family**__ moved in. It wasn't until after he scared them enough to cause them to leave that he felt bad, realizing that he couldn't call this house __**his**__ anymore._

_He silently found himself in his bedroom, eyes peering over the furniture. The wardrobe was still here; that was good. The fireplace with the loose floorboard…his bedframe…his vanity…and his portrait. They were all still here. The only difference was the new mattress on the bed and the comforter. He smiled slightly, sitting on the edge of the bed and soaking in the memories this room brought him. Two new voices made themselves known downstairs, one sounding scarily familiar. He listened as footsteps made their way up the stairs, almost as a confirmation that his worst nightmare would come to life. That voice…it couldn't be real…he was just hearing things, right?_

_The footsteps would pause momentarily as a soft shuffle meant doors were opening and closing, thus causing those sickeningly similar footfalls to draw near. He panicked as they stopped in front of __**his**__ door._

_**Don't come in here…please, don't come in here…**_

_Why was he so afraid? He didn't really know. Something told him that he didn't want to see the person twisting the knob of the door, so in a last attempt at keeping the knowledge unknown, he clasped his fingers over his eyes just as it swung open. _

_He could hear the memory of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, accompanying the soft padding of the figure entering the room like some dreadful orchestra piece. He found himself cursing his natural curiosity, fighting against it to keep his hands over his eyes. The battle between himself and his mind got overbearing, and in a crushing defeat, curiosity got the better of him, forcing his hands to his lap and his lids to open._

_There was a boy in his room. Right now, he only saw the back of his guest, who seemed to be analyzing the room. _

_That back…those shoulders…_

_The boy turned around to place his bag on the bed, immediately opening it and placing things around the room, finally turning at such an angle that he could see the newcomer's face. _

_Dios. _

_Green eyes, unmistakable even after all these years, framed by thick eyelashes and topped with elegant eyebrows. A disdainful mouth permanently formed into a scowling pout, matching the fire in the olive orbs. Copper hair, companioned by a wayward curl hanging out to the side…_

_A soft outtake of breath left Antonio's lips._

_**That's right…I am Antonio.**_

_**And that's…that's…**_

_**That's my Roma. **_

* * *

**I can't begin to say how happy I am with all of the feedback! So thank you with all of the alerts and reviews ^^ really, it's amazing. I think this is my favorite story I have/will ever work on...and you'll see why.**

Anyways, sorry for the long wait, this chapter was a little harder to poop out than the first. I find that the second and third chapters are always the hardest. Oh well~

Please review, tell me what you think! Predict what's going to happen, I want to see if I've done a good job at making it myserious ;D


	3. The Gentlemen are Coming By

_Alouette, gentille alouette  
Alouette, je te plumerai._

He heard him.

He had _heard_ him.

There was no doubt in Antonio's mind that the boy, _living_ boy, had heard him speak.

But there were plenty of other things floating around his head that confused him to no end. What year was it? How was Roma alive? How was he _here_, of all places, sleeping in Antonio's room? But then, upon closer inspection, there were things about the boy that was different from Roma. Roma's eyes had been grey and stormy; this boy's eyes were a startling olive. He didn't quite register that fact until after the incident of the morning. However, he forgave himself for overlooking that minute irregularity, for the fire that blazed behind the color was the very same as Roma's.

A part of him wanted to jump to conclusions, to send him bounding around the house in a sheer fit of joy that _Roma was back. He was __**here**__. _Had the angels granted his request to see his lover once again? He _knew_ that God couldn't hate a homosexual, that was all on Man's part. However, this was startling. Would Roma even remember who Antonio was, if he was the reincarnation of the boy? And for that matter, would Antonio even be able to talk to Roma the way they once did? Antonio felt his essence run cold, his mind suddenly providing the conclusion that maybe God _did_ hate homosexuals. Maybe Roma was reborn and sent into this house to torture Antonio, to offer him the scent of a delectable treat he'd never be able to taste. If this were the true case, Antonio wanted to go lay in the darkness once more. But hey, maybe, _just maybe_, something good would come out of this. All Antonio had to do was give it some time, which was something he could do easily. After all, he had waited at least a century for deliverance; he could stand to wait just a little longer.

.zZz.

Feliciano's head snapped up from a box, his eyes staring distantly and eyebrows furrowed together, as if he was straining to notice something. "Did you hear that?"

Lovino looked up from the box he was elbow-deep in, focusing on his ears and listening to any strange sounds. Nothing made itself obvious, and he gave his brother a dubious look, "Hear what?"

His brother stayed silent for a moment, still listening for whatever had alerted him, "Huh. I swore I heard somebody upstairs."

"It was probably a mover guy," Lovino supplied logically, pulling a carton of glass cups out of his box.

"The movers weren't allowed upstairs without Grandpa. Not only that, but they left ten minutes ago." Feliciano said, straining to lift a stack of plates from the package he was assigned. He was finally able to get it out, placing it on the countertop the boys were working at.

"Well if it wasn't a mover, it was somebody. Probably Grandpa, and if not, then you're just hearing things," Lovino stated, turning to put away the cups in the allotted cabinet.

"Grandpa went out to find food," Feliciano reminded Lovino, "Besides, I heard it last night, too," he defended, putting his plates away, "I swear it on my life. I was in the library trying to find a good book, and I heard somebody right next to me."

"What are you trying to say, idiot? That our house is haunted?" Lovino laughed dryly, "Ghosts aren't real, dumbass."

Feliciano sighed, pulling bowls out of the box, "You don't know that. Besides, this house is old. Remember that episode of _Ghost Adventures_ where they investigated an old house like this?"

"Feliciano. Do you even hear yourself? _Ghost Adventures_ is just about the fakest paranormal show on TV," He turned to lean against the counter and stare his brother down, "Ghosts. Aren't. Real. Don't scare yourself because this house is old and creaks."

Feliciano opened his mouth as if to protest, but he frowned and closed it, placing the bowls in the cupboard with the plates.

"Besides," Lovino continued, collapsing his now empty box and opening a new one, "Even if ghosts were real, why would they be scary? They're just dead people. I highly doubt that when you die, you automatically get so fucked up you just want to hurl bricks at random people."

Feliciano sighed out in relief, "Thanks, fratello."

Lovino rolled his eyes, "Shut up. I'm only being logical."

"Yeah but I feel better now!"

"Hm. Well if you feel better, hurry up with your boxes. I don't want Grandpa yelling at us."

"Why would I yell at you?" their Grandfather asked, walking into the kitchen with a bag full of food from some restaurant in town.

"No reason," Feliciano answered as he walked over to peer inside the bag. "Chinese?"

"Erm, I don't think it's Chinese, but it's definitely something oriental. The restaurant was the first one I found." Grandpa placed the bag down on the counter, "Looks like you two nearly got the kitchen unpacked. Good job!"

Lovino rolled his eyes exasperatedly, grabbing a paper plate from their overnight provision stock and serving himself, "Feliciano thinks the house is haunted."

Grandpa raised an eyebrow, "Oh? Do you agree?"

The elder of the grandchildren scoffed, "No. It's crazy."

"It isn't crazy!" Feliciano protested, "I promise I heard something."

"Well I have no doubt you did, son." Grandpa served himself some food, "I'm just saying I'm surprised that _you_ heard something and Lovino didn't."

Ouch. Not even Feliciano knew what to say to that, so an uncomfortable silence settled itself over the three males. Lovino fiercely tried to focus on his food and not on the pain that the sentence brought, his eyes burning hotly with rage, embarrassment, sorrow…what did his grandfather even mean by that? Was he saying that _Lovino_ was the one inclined to make up stories? Or was he pointing out the obvious: Lovino's disorder.

If being schizophrenic was a choice, Lovino would gladly have picked otherwise.

Swallowing his last bite, Feliciano quickly stood up, "Me and Lovino are going to take a break, kay Grandpa?"

The older man was still eating, but he flashed a thumb up to Feli, who promptly grabbed Lovino's arm and dragged him out of the kitchen.

"He hates me," Lovino stated grimly once they were out of hearing distance.

"No he doesn't," Feliciano reassured, "He just doesn't know how to handle you yet. You were gone for two years, he doesn't even know if you're the same person."

Lovino's scowl somehow got even bitterer, "I _am_ the same person. I'm _Lovino_, dammit. His first grandchild. I'm no different than I ever was…"

"I think that's what scares him," Feliciano admitted before opening up a large set of double doors. At first, Lovino was blinded by an oversized window, but as his eyes adjusted he could see rows upon rows of books. Really. It was like a school library, only…dustier. And it smelled like an attic.

"Is this the library?" he asked, choosing to forget the previous conversation. He nearly slapped himself for the stupidity of the question, it was _obviously_ a library, but Feliciano didn't seem to notice.

"Yep! I told you it was cool."

Folding his arms, Lovino stepped into the large room, taking the sight in with narrowed eyes. It smelled like mildew and something dead, though the sheer amount of books was impressive enough to bypass the scent. He walked up to the nearest shelf, pulling out a book and opening it up. The binding crackled and he had to tense his hand to keep it from falling apart, but it didn't seem too worn down by age; he could still read the words perfectly. He flipped to the front of the book, eyes searching for a publish date. He found none, frowning and putting it back.

"Oooh! Look at this! I found a kid's book!" Feliciano called, and curiosity tempted Lovino to go take a look. The cover was worn down, appearing to be green, labeled: "The Children's Companion". He took it from Feliciano and opened up the cover, the spine bending easily from obvious usage when it was younger. He found the publish date immediately (1840), and right above that was a name. His eyes flickered slightly and his heart caught in his chest as he read the sloppily scribbled cursive: Antonio Carriedo.

The name sent a jolt through him. Something about it _entranced_ him like no other, making him want to hop onto his laptop and search the name up. It was beautiful and exotic, and it flowed easily to his brain. It made him picture nearly shirtless thieves riding horses and stealing from the rich to give to the innocent, with leather boots and toned chests, baked from the sun and flashing mysterious, beautiful smiles that spoke more words than any picture could.

Antonio Carriedo.

The name that gives you shivers.

Feliciano said something that Lovino couldn't hear, causing him to wake from his stupor and glare over at his brother, "Speak the hell up, I can't understand you."

"Oh, I just said that nearly this whole shelf has books that belonged to that Antonio guy," suddenly his eyes lit up, "Hey, didn't you say the boy in that painting was named Antonio?"

Lovino blinked, "Well, yeah…I think so." Suddenly it dawned on him, and he looked down at the book in his hands with renewed interest and respect. It belonged to _him._ Somebody he could place a face to the name. The boy with sad, lonely green eyes and a face carved by God himself. In Lovino's mind, he could picture a younger version of the portrait opening up one of these books and sitting cross-legged to read it, taking his father's pen to scrawl in his name, excited with the chance to flaunt his newly learned cursive.

He put the book back, the entirety of the situation starting to make him feel sick.

Antonio Carriedo.

.zZz.

Later that evening, Lovino found himself clinging to his pillow, crying out a day's worth of frustrations. He couldn't even pinpoint the exact feeling or event or thought that sent him into the whimpering, sniveling mess he knew he was, and quite frankly, he didn't give a damn. He just wanted this pain, this aching, lonesome feeling that clawed its way out of his chest to leave him alone. It hurt…it hurt so badly…it was the house. It had to be the house. He _hated_ it. He hated the wood floors, he hated the amazing kitchen, and he hated the damn library stocked with books that belonged to that _boy_. He didn't even _care _about the complete stranger, why would he? He just felt so _sad_ that somebody had to go through so much pain.

_How do you even know he was going through pain? _He chided himself; _you're going completely off of a painting. You're probably making it all up in your mind, besides, why should you __**care? **__Most likely than not, if you knew the boy, he wouldn't even look at you. You're __**worthless**__. He's worthless. He's __**dead**__. _

Compressing his sobs into fitful mewls, he fisted his hands against his breast, applying pressure as if he could soothe the beast within him. His legs felt sweaty and hot, though his head, hands, and torso felt ice cold. In an act of sheer aggravation, he kicked the blanket off, the exploit lodging loose another heart breaking whimper that tumbled from his throat and bled out his lips. His forehead hurt from how tensely he kept his eyes shut, so he opened them, allowing dammed up tears to spill onto his cheeks. He hated crying, it always made him feel so vulnerable, so useless, so…_girly._ However, sometimes, he simply couldn't stop the pain from overflowing. He desperately hoped that nobody would walk in and see him like this, all snotty and blotchy and shit…

His thought was stopped cold as a soft, cool touch made itself known just under his eyelid. His eyes shot wide open and he froze, staring at the painting on the wall as the touch moved across his cheekbone and eventually disappeared, taking the newly released tear with it.

_Something touched me. Something __**touched**__ me. I've heard of people feeling as if they get touched but fuck, it felt so __**real**__…oh God I'm insane…_

Lovino didn't want this. He wanted it all to go away. He was half tempted to reach over to his Geodon and swallow another pill, but he had already taken his last dosage of the day, and he was scared of what could happen if he overdosed.

_"Please don't cry," _The voice softly whispered, sounding dangerously close to his face. Lovino could hear traces of concern in its tone, and that combined with the distance he _swore_ he could pinpoint unnerved him. It was in his _head_. Not out. See? His medicine was even working! He should be able to ignore the voice and know it's not real!

_But it __**is**__ real…_

"Go away!" He attempted shouting, mucus blocking his throat and muffling the absolute hate he meant to put into the words. He felt a shift of the air in front of him, as if somebody was moving their body to get more comfortable.

_"Why are you crying?" _It asked, as if it hadn't even heard Lovino screech at it.

Lovino flustered, suddenly embarrassed (_what the hell, Lovino! It's a voice in your __**mind**__. Don't get embarrassed!),_ and wiped his face, leaving a sticky trail of some runny substance across his cheek, prompting him to turn red and vigorously rub at his features to get it off. Suddenly, he felt that same cool touch on his cheeks, rubbing away his tears gently as a mother would to her child. Lovino froze once again in shock, unable to react to how…how…_strange_ it felt to have something touch him, something that wasn't even there. His eyes glanced frantically around the room, as if he could see the culprit if he looked hard enough, but the only other person in the space was the damn brat in the painting.

_"Please, tell me why…I want to know what hurts you," _The voice was so kind…so patient. Lovino never had somebody use such a tone on him before. The nurses at the hospital used a fake sweetness; his Grandfather usually treated him like a ticking time bomb, then Feliciano exploited him as some sort of leader. But this tone…this _damn voice_…was so kind, so thoughtful, so completely concerned with a brutal honesty that rattled Lovino to his core. He felt exposed, and that scared him, so he put on his usual defiant front.

"Why should I tell you?!" He asked, pulling his face away from the cool touch of invisible hands. _God I'm insane I'm insane…_

_"Because…" _The voice seemed to be unable to answer that, _"Because you need to let it out sometimes."_ The way that it said those words almost seemed as if it were quoting a book or another person. Lovino felt eyes drill into him, as if they were expecting to say something to that. _I'm insane, I'm insane…_

"I don't care!" He hissed, shoving a pillow over his ears and clenching his eyes shut, "Go away!"

Muffled slightly, almost as if the pillow blocked the sound waves, it replied, _"Don't be scared of me. I won't hurt you…"_

"Like Hell!" Lovino spat.

An odd, peaceful aura bloated in the room, coaxing Lovino to let go of the pillow and take calming, deep breaths. He couldn't tell what was making him so relaxed, it seemed to have come out of nowhere, and the only thing he could relate the feeling to was the time his mother had sung to him after he had a nightmare. A small pang of loneliness shuddered through his chest, but it wasn't intense enough to rid the serene aura pulsating through his anxiety, knocking it loose like a stubborn wasp's nest.

_"You don't trust me right now. I understand, this has to be terrifying." _It was logical, calming. It made Lovino want to apologize for ever distrusting it, _"But I will make this promise to you: I will __**never**__ give you reason to believe I will harm you. I don't know what you think I am, but-"_

"A voice," Lovino interrupted dryly, "You're a voice. Nothing more than that. A figment of my imagination. My damn brain must be catching up to the medicine, because you're the realest voice I have ever dealt with. Congratulations."

A long pause of silence met the Italian, almost making him believe it was over before that damn _accent_ spoke back up, _"A voice?"_

"Sí. You're a voice."

_"…I promise I'm more than a voice." _It assured with that same terrible honesty, _"And one day I'll prove it to you. For now though, you need to sleep."_

Oh God. It wanted him to sleep…that couldn't be good. What if it had plans to give Lovino awful dreams and keep him tortured all night? "Like hell I will!"

_"Sleep," _It said with an almost song like serenity, _"Ahora tù vas duermes." _

Lovino slept.

.zZz.

Watching the boy he now knew as Lovino cry, defend, and sleep brought up so many memories for Antonio. All of them were happy, though they hurt just the same. It was a little shocking to hear Lovino blatantly call him a 'voice', as if he had heard voices all of his life, and it was shocking as well to see how _easily_ the boy distrusted him. Had he given reason to be feared? Antonio couldn't think of any incidents that would cause Lovino to be so scared of him…

He sighed, looking down at the peacefully resting face that so resembled his lost love. It was uncanny, really. Lovino even had the small beauty mark just below his left eye that Roma had.

The thought of Roma immediately sent Antonio back in time, back to a warm day of lying under the willow tree…

_"Did you know the hair on the side of your face makes a cowlick?" Antonio had asked after admiring Roma's face for some time. "Like, the really thin invisible hairs."_

_"Tch. Bastard. If they're invisible, how do you see them?"_

_"Good point, but you know what I meant." Antonio grinned, brushing some hair out of the gorgeous boy's face. _

_"You're so stupid…" Roma whispered, turning his head to face Antonio head on. For a moment the only thing the two boys could do was stare at each other's lips, but a quick tilt of the head changed that and they ensued in a sweet, non invasive kiss, leaving both of them flushed and wanting more by the end, but both were too scared to make 'more' happen._

_Because Roma was the only person Antonio felt scared with. _

The memory of a tear dripped down Antonio's face, but he refused to stop his night vigilante over Lovino. Lovino was scared, and Antonio made a silent vow to never let anything hurt the boy, since he couldn't keep the vows he made to Roma.

For even now, Roma was the only person Antonio felt scared for.

* * *

**Welp. I _should_ have updated Count the Stars, but hell, inspiration for this story slapped me like a bitch.**

**So, review, tell me what you think, predict some stuff. Bitch me out for typos or grammatical errors or anything else.**

**Now, if you'll excuse me, I am late for a birthday party.**

**I DID THIS FOR YOU GUYS. I'M LATE FOR YOU GUYS. BE GRATEFUL.**

**Also, if you don't know the translation behind 'Alouette', go look it up. Freaky shit bro. Those Frenchies.**

**BUT. France was one of the only countries during the nineteenth century that had a lively and social homosexual population. Just a fact for you all. And then one of the only cities in Italy that had an open homosexual population during the time period was Naples, a _Southern_ Italian city. Go figure.**


	4. Looking In Windows

_London Bridge is falling down  
Falling down,  
Falling down.  
London Bridge is falling down..._

_My fair lady._

That night, Lovino dreamt. He dreamt of persecuting fires burning men and women at the stake, their cries ringing out for everyone to hear but nobody to care for. He could smell melting, crisping flesh and flaming hair, the scent making him feel nauseated and frail, as if he could collapse at any moment, which he probably could. He gripped his stomach tightly, trying to turn away from the bloodshed and violence, but it was everywhere he looked. He opened his lips to scream as loud as he could, though no noise came out of his mouth. Desperate, he tried again, but only a raspy sound like a door sliding open made itself known. Tears slid down his cheeks, he was scared, he was alone, and he _couldn't scream._

He crumpled to the ground, gripping his ears tightly, as if he could make the things go away with just that tiny action. He wanted somebody to be there, _anybody _to be there, holding him and telling him it was alright, but the only people around him were being roasted alive and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Then, the world went silent. Shocked, Lovino opened his eyes and looked up, the first thing flooding his vision being green eyes. Green eyes he had never seen but he knew to heart. They held him in a warm embrace, their fingers wiping away tears from his face. Gentle, calm, relaxing; the emerald irises whispered the fear and panic away, their depths shining softly with absolute _adoration._ An adoration Lovino hadn't seen since his mother died.

"Wh-who…?" Lovino stammered, trying to place where he had seen these eyes before.

_Shhh. Lovino, you need to run._

He blinked once, twice, "But why?"

_Don't ask questions, my love. Just run and don't stop running. I love you, you must remember that. Now go, run!_

And just like that, the beautiful orbs were gone, replaced with the disgusting scene from before. Lovino no longer looked at it with fear, he simply stood up, glancing at bodies as he did so, feeling pity swell in his heart.

"Rest in peace," He whispered, "May your souls forgive the living."

And with that, he obeyed the command from the green eyes, breaking into a run.

Then he woke up.

.zZz.

"No, I'm serious. It's like the door is welded shut." A pause in the talking as his grandfather heard the other line out, "Didn't you ever try to open it?"

Lovino glanced at Feliciano as he sat down at the table, still covered in unpacked boxes, having come down simply for the source of the delicious scent that had found its way to his room, "Who's he talking to?"

"You're telling me you were never curious?"

Feliciano bit into his toast, sliding the tray of food over to Lovino to pick from, "The previous owner. Grandpa's pissed he can't get into the basement."

"Alright, alright. Isn't there a key somewhere?"

"So it's locked from this side too?" Lovino raised an eyebrow, placing eggs and sausage onto a paper plate. It looked like his grandfather had done some early morning shopping.

Feliciano nodded, "Yeah. I'm so curious to find out what's in there…"

Lovino hummed in agreement, listening to his grandfather argue it out just a bit longer before it seemed to end.

"Sorry for calling. Have a pleasant day, sir." He pressed the button to end the call, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"What did he say?" Feliciano inquired.

Their grandfather looked up, almost as if he had forgotten they were there, and then shrugged, "He said that the door has been sealed ever since _they_ moved in. He figured the historical society had locked it then took the key by accident. The dumbass never even tried to get inside…"

Lovino snorted, "Why do _you_ want to get inside?"

The elder beamed, "Because I'm curious! You know I love an adventure."

Rolling his eyes, Lovino went back to eating. Feliciano had barely finished, so he stood to throw away his plate. "So are we never gonna see inside?"

"No, no. I'm going to find a hardware store and buy some tools. We'll find a way to open it, even if we have to hack down that wall."

In Lovino's mind, he pictured their grandfather chipping away pieces of the wall, and right as he got to the other side, the house would collapse. Despite how gruesome it was, he laughed at the irony of it, making his family stare at him though they asked no questions.

"Well, uhm…" His grandfather continued, "Do you boys want to come with me to town? We can do some back to school shopping."

Feliciano bobbed his head in a, "Yes, please!" while Lovino shook his.

"I think I'll stay home…maybe paint a little." He said, staring down at eggs that he didn't really want to eat.

Grandpa nodded, "Paint me something to put on one of these walls. We'll need the extra artwork~"

Lovino nodded as well, finally fed up with his plate, walking to toss it away. "I'll see what I can do. While you're in town though, buy me a new sketch book."

"We will. Try unpacking too." Grandpa grabbed his keys, "We'll be back sometime around six or seven."

As the two walked out, Lovino could hear Feliciano ask excitedly, "Can we get a kitten?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. As if they'd get a kitten, Lovino was allergic. He heard the front door open and close, and as he stood up, could hear the car crunching out of the driveway. Now he was home alone, medicated so he didn't have to fear, and he was in desperate need to explore the house. He had inherited their grandfather's love of escapade. He walked out of the kitchen into the foyer, completely ready to head up the stairs, but stopped as he spotted the two doors next to the front entrance. He debated with himself which one to go in, and decided on the right one. The door creaked loudly as he opened it, revealing a rather long hallway.

"What the hell?" He muttered to himself, walking far enough in to see one wall lined with more doors. It was probably a servant's quarters, he realized, looking into each room to find they were all empty save for simple bed frames. He grumbled to himself about how much empty space the house had, opening up the last door in the hallway.

He blinked once at the tiny staircase that led straight up, craning his head to follow it. It opened up once, probably on the second floor, but the rest led even higher. Curious, he closed the door, resolving to find the entrance on the second floor later. He exited the hallway, then crossed the foyer to the left side of the door, finding another similar hallway with less doors. In one, it was completely empty. The second had crates and barrels galore, vacant upon further inspection, and the last door led to another staircase, this one leading down.

_I thought Grandpa said this door was sealed…_He thought to himself curiously, stepping down the wooden steps. They creaked loudly and he vaguely wondered if they'd collapse on him, but they never did. Instead they led him to a cellar-like place, wine barrels lining the farthest wall. He could see a pile of bricks in one corner and a stack of wood in another.

"Jesus, are these still full?" He asked nobody in particular, placing a hand on one of the wine barrels when he was close enough. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another door, this one metal and heavy-looking. He fully turned to face it, frowning at it. Something about it was off…it scared him, to be honest. He instantly got the feeling that secrets lay behind the door, secrets similar to the ones he felt deep within the woods when they first arrived. At the same time he wanted nothing but to rip the door open and find them, he was too timid to do so.

Adventure won out, and he placed his hand on the knob, turning it and pulling as hard as he could.

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

The door didn't even _budge._

"Chigi! What the hell?" Frustrated, he started tugging on it more, the curiosity melting into a pure defiance of _how dare this door think it can stay closed off to me!_

_"Lovino! Stop!"_

Oh, _God._ Not this again. He ignored the voice pointedly, still caught up in his battle with the damn entrance.

_"Lovino, you don't understand. You __**can't**__ go in there. Please, don't even try…"_

"Don't tell me what to do, dammit!" Lovino growled, getting fed up with the motherly attitude the voice possessed.

_"Look, you need to listen to me," _The voice pleaded. Hell, it sounded…well, desperate, _"There are things in this house that I don't wish for you to know."_

Lovino flushed. Who did this voice think it was, telling him what to do and not to do in his own house?! "And why the Hell not?!" He spat, whirling around as if there was a body to talk to as well.

_"Because…well, some secrets need to stay secrets." _

The Italian wrinkled his nose in distaste. Great. Now a fucking voice in his head was getting all cryptic on him. "Well sorry to burst your bubble but my Grandfather is going to fucking blow this door away when he gets home, so it'll be open whether you like it or not."

There was silence for a little bit, enough so that made Lovino want to start walking away, but the voice eventually spoke back up, speaking as if it had to choose its words carefully.

_"If it does open…don't go in it. Please."_

Lovino snorted, rolled his eyes, and then started back up the stairs. He was so curious to get inside that there was no way in Hell he'd listen to the voice, but it was so pleading he chose not to answer. Don't get any assumptions. He wasn't doing it because he wanted the voice satisfied or anything…

_"So, where are you going to go next?" _It resonated just behind him, the tone no longer pleading but happy instead. Almost excited.

"Tch, none of your business," Lovino mumbled, closing the door behind him as he walked out.

_"Well I want to show you around~" _Oh great. Now the voice sounded like an overexcited host. This also meant it would follow him wherever he went, and that was something he didn't want…at least that's what he told himself.

"Where _can't_ you go?" He settled for asking, stopping in the foyer to put his hands on his hips.

_"Hm? Oh, well…I can't leave the house property, so I can't go into the woods or past the front gates."_

Lovely, the woods. Well, it couldn't be helped. With a huff, Lovino made his way to the back door in the kitchen.

_"Wait…where are you going?" _The voice asked, now suspicious and if Lovino heard right, it sounded borderline panicked as well. He was afraid that if he answered, the voice would plead with him not to go, and knowing Lovino's inability to not give a fuck about the voice, he would probably succumb to the pleas.

He flung open the back door, not bothering to close it, and nearly sprinted across the yard to an opening in the brush just past the barn. The voice said nothing, and if it did, he couldn't hear it over the sound of his panting, which was strange. He should be able to hear the voice no matter what, since it was in his head…

_I'm medicated, too. What the hell is going on here?_

He grunted, coming to a stop just above a sharp, rocky drop. If he tripped, he would tumble down the steep slide, getting beat up by the boulders and tree roots littered everywhere. As he caught his breath, he took in his surroundings, a little surprised at how beautiful it was. It was green in late-summer splendor, birds tweeted everywhere, and as his heartbeat calmed down he could hear small animals moving under the brush. It was calm, peaceful even. He immediately pushed away all of the fears he had about it earlier. Not wanting to stop, he began to step his way down the stony slope, careful not to trip and fall like he was prone to do. He managed to get down it relatively unharmed despite a stubbed toe, (he just realized he was barefoot) and started to explore the lower level of the forest. Twigs and pebbles jabbed at his bare soles, making him dance in order to move around.

"Ow! Shit!" He clutched his foot, having been stabbed by something sharp, hopping to lean on a small tree. He was headed to a large, dead tree just twenty feet from the slope. It looked like a nice tree to climb, it was knotted and old, it's trunk twisting around itself and its branches starting low to the ground. But no. Some fucking _thing_ had to _stab_ him in his heel! A small burst of panic ran through his system: what if it was a snake? Worried, he hopped back over to where he felt the stab, searching through the decomposing mulch for some sort of movement indicating a venomous creature had bit him. After a minute or so of seeing nothing, he lifted his inflicted heel to examine it, seeing only a small puncture wound. It was probably just a stick. Satisfied, he turned to walk away when…_something_ caught his attention. Just a small sparkle in the corner of his eye. He twisted his head back to the object, eyebrows knitting together in curiosity. Crouching, he moved some of the undergrowth out of the way, revealing what appeared to be some sort of…_dagger._

"Oh, cool…" he whispered, picking it up. It was rusted through and through, but as he wiped away some dirt, he found the source of the glint that had originally caught his attention. The hilt was set with blue and purple gems, sparkling beautifully despite flecks of dirt and age. He doubted he'd be able to clean the rust off, but it was worth a try. Who knows, he could make a good buck off of it. Carrying it in one hand, he walked to the tree, suddenly feeling too lazy to climb it. In a small exhale of weariness, he plopped himself at the trunk, leaning against it tiredly. The dagger sat in his lap like he owned it, his hands playing in the grass and leaves around him. Absently, he picked up a stick that made its way into his hand, looking at it with bored eyes. Ah, no. It wasn't a stick. It looked like a bone from a bird or a small mammal…a little disgusted; he put the bone back to the ground.

He sat for God knows how long, just taking in the beauty of his surroundings, when that annoying little _beep_ from his watch intruded on his relaxing demeanor. With an annoyed sigh, he turned it off, and then put a pill into his mouth from the capsule in his pocket.

"They'll be home soon…" he muttered to no one in particular. Groaning, knees popping, he stood up and started the trek home.

_"You're back!" _The voice greeted the moment he walked into the yard, _"Dios, I thought you had fallen!" _Lovino may be going out on a limb, but he swore the voice sounded relieved. Like a mom who lost her child at the park.

"Yeah, well, I'm fine. Don't get your panties in a twist, idiot." He boredly played with the dagger, keeping his eyes low as if ashamed to have made the voice worry for him. _Do you hear yourself, Lovino? This is crazy!_

An invisible gasp stirred the hair on Lovino's face, _Wait…it can't actually move my hair…can it?_, and the voice spoke, _"Where did you find that?"_

Lovino blinked, completely forgetting about his hair, "Find what?" before the voice answered he figured it out, "Oh, this?" he held up the dagger, "I found it out there." A small shrug indicated the woods behind him.

_"…Oh, I see." _Something told Lovino that he wasn't telling the whole story. What _story_ for that matter? He was a _fucking voice_ in his _fucking __**head**_. He can't have stories…can he?

A memory flashed through Lovino's head:

_"I promise I'm more than a voice, and one day I'll prove it to you…"_

A second memory rampaged through his hurting brain:

_"Did you hear that?"_

_"Hear what?"_

_"…I swore I heard something upstairs…"_

_…_

_…_

_"Ghosts aren't real, Feliciano."_

They aren't real, they can't be real…

"Look, voice guy," Lovino whispered, voice trembling, "I…need to sleep. I'm going to take a nap so…leave me alone for a while, okay? Can you do that?" There wasn't near enough venom in his voice as he wanted, but his head throbbed too much for him to care.

_"Oh, uhm…sí. Dream well, Lovino."_

Something about the atmosphere changed and Lovino knew that the…_voice _had left him be. Not quite willing to go inside just yet, the Italian wobbled over to the willow tree, lying on the soft grass beneath it. His eyes fluttered shut, hands gripping the hilt of the dagger. What did it mean? He didn't understand what was happening…_ghosts can't be real._

_They can't be real._

_He's not real._

_He's a…a __**voice.**_

But as Lovino fell into a light slumber, he knew that he was so much more than a voice.

.zZz.

Lovino woke up as something slapped his face. Tired and pissed, he slapped whatever it was away, but it continued to pat at his cheeks.

"Fratello~! Wake up, we have dinner!"

"Nng…Feliciano, lemme 'lone…"

"Nope~. Come eat!"

The younger pulled his brother to his feet, forcing Lovino to open his eyes and support his own weight. He stretched, feeling his back pop and shirt peel away from his sweaty skin. "Alright alright, I'm coming." He trudged after Feliciano towards the house, the backdoor still open. Lovino wasn't sure if it had been closed then opened, or if it had stayed open since Lovino stormed out.

"Oh, we were in the pet store and I saw a painting in there that looked really familiar," Feliciano said as they walked up the porch steps.

_Pet store…? _"Oh?"

"I hadn't seen it before, but the artwork was familiar. Like the colors and stuff. When I asked about it, the store owner said that it was painted by a French artist named Francis Bonnefoy. You know, the guy who made the portrait in your room~ and then I remembered where I had heard his name before! He's the famous artist from the 1800's that all the rich families hired. I learned about him in school last year…Lovino, you okay?"

Lovino had stopped listening to his brother halfway through, instead staring at the creature rolling around on the wood floor. At first, he thought maybe it had gotten in through the open door, but he knew where it really came from.

"Oh, Lovino!" Feliciano picked the creature up, "Meet Romana, my kitten! I named her after you~" Romano was his middle name. Oh _God._ It was sickeningly...just..sickening!

Without saying a single word, Lovino stomped his way through the kitchen, living room, and up the stairs to his bed, which he crumpled on promptly. A kitten. They had adopted a fucking kitten. Somehow Feliciano convinced Grandpa to buy a kitten. Lovino didn't even want to ask how…

His ears felt silent and he wondered why. Then he realized it was because the damn voice hadn't shown up yet…in a way, Lovino hoped he would…he didn't feel like being alone right now. Should he call out for it…?

Sighing, Lovino caved. "Oi, bastardo, you can come back now…"

Almost immediately, the atmosphere of the room changed and Lovino could just _feel_ something in the room with him. Confusion swirled in his mind, causing him to scratch at the scab on his wrist.

_"How was your nap?" _Oh God. The way it talked made it sound like they were close friends.

"Tch, it was alright. It's friggin hot outside." And now he was conversing _back_ as if they were close friends. The whole situation was so completely wrong and Lovino had no idea what to do or say…

_"Ah, sí. It's pretty hot in this area." _And _now_ they were discussing the weather!

Lovino didn't reply for his eyes were locked on the portrait, his mind lost in thought. Those green eyes…oh! _Those_ were the eyes from his dream…and…

Oh _God_. That was the voice from his dream. The voice that belonged to the eyes that belonged to the boy who owned those books…

_"Antonio." _Lovino breathed, his orbs widening in shock. He didn't even mean to say it; it just came out of his mouth, the name riding his breath like a wave. This couldn't be happening; it was all some freaky coincidence…

A pregnant moment of tension settled itself in the room before the voice—no, _Antonio-, _replied:

_"Sí."_

* * *

**Ohhhh snap. So, what do you think of the story so far? Leave it in a review! **

**Also, I'm putting Count the Stars on hold for a while. I'm just not feeling it right now, while inspiration for this story is flowing like no other.**

**So yeah.**

**Also. I just will take this moment to applaud myself on the mystery of this story. I have you guys thinking exactly what I want you to think~ ;D have fun with the story, kiddies.**


	5. Knocking On Doors

**Merp. Alright, so I keep forgetting to do this, so I'm doing it now. HETALIA DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. Yep, it sucks. **

** Anyways, if you have any feedback, feel free to let me know. I'm going to be in Lake Powell for the next two weeks, so don't be expecting an update for a bit. **

** *Sigh* I have to go spend time with my skank of a cousin and a whole crapton of judgemental people…wish me luck. Anywho, enjoy this chapter.**

…

_Peter Peter, pumpkin eater_

_Had a wife but couldn't keep her_

_Stuck her in a pumpkin shell_

_There he kept her very well._

One word is what it took to shatter everything Lovino had known.

One _tiny_ Spanish word.

_Sí._

With that word, everything Lovino thought he knew about the afterlife just flew out the window. Literally. He could feel color drain from his face to pool in the pit of his stomach, knotting his abdomen with an emotion he felt often, but it was different now. Fear. He was scared, he could admit that much; he was scared of the fact he had a _ghost_ in his _house._ Lovino grew up watching horror movies and paranormal documentaries, and while he thought they were faked, they scared him half to death. There was something about the unknown that put trepidation into anybody's heart, and he was no exception to that rule.

_"Lovino?" _Antonio spoke again; almost hesitant like he was afraid the Italian would blow up any second.

Lovino turned his attention to the painting, now regarding it as if it were a real person, "You're…_him?"_

_"Ah, well…sí. Or really, he's me."_

The Italian barely even listened to the answer, "And you're _dead_."

_ "Heh…well, I like to think of myself as not alive." _

"It's the same thing, douchebag!" Lovino shouted just a bit louder than he meant to. Hysteria was a cruel bitch. Lovino dropped his head into his hands, breathing a bit harder than he needed to, a slight mutter leaving his mouth, "Oh _God._ Oh God oh God oh God. This can't be happening…"

_"Well…it __**is**__ happening, so may as well make the best of it!" _Antonio laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Somehow, he really was able to do just that, and Lovino felt his hysteria melting down to slight hiccups.

Lovino's eyes widened in realization, _that's how he got me to sleep._ "Stop doing that!"

_"…Doing what…?"_

"Don't play dumb with me! You know _exactly_ what, you stupid ghost freak! Stop messing with my emotions!"

_"Oh, this?" _Lovino felt his panic and rage calming once again, causing him to wipe his eyes and subconsciously wonder why he was so upset. Wait…

The Italian shrieked, chucking a pillow at the painting, _"__**Yes, that!**_" the dainty stuffed cloth merely bounced off the surface, though it did make the frame collide against the wall in a satisfying clatter. This…this _dead_ guy was forcing Lovino to calm down! Well what if he didn't want to calm down?

_"Lo siento…you just look like you need calming down sometimes, no?" _

"Well I don't! Leave me alone!" With a huff, Lovino flopped onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow, waiting for the telltale atmosphere change of Antonio leaving.

Instead, however, he felt the mattress dip beside him, causing his heartbeat to speed up. _Oh God he's next to me. There's a fucking ghost right next to me…_and then a soft hand stroked the back of his head gently, calmingly. It made his heart slow right back down, which made him want to yell at Antonio for using his weird emotion manipulation thing, but that was just it…

Antonio _wasn't_ using it.

_"Lovino…" _He spoke after feeling the Italian tense up, _"I…I can tell how lonely you are."_

"Che?! What's that supposed to mean?" Lovino jerked up, whirling around to face the presence he could feel, "What do _you_ know about _me_? About anything? What do _you_ know about loneliness?!" His face was flushed from rage and embarrassment, though he had no idea what was causing the latter. He was just so _mad_ that this _brat_ acted like he knew everything about him! His face softened slightly as he remembered his first impression of the painting…how sad the eyes were…

The air shifted in front of him, pressure alleviated itself from his shoulders, and he vaguely realized that Antonio must be looking away.

_"I know a lot about loneliness, actually."_

Oh. Now Lovino felt bad. He pieced together certain things in his mind: the painting was nearly two centuries old, so that must mean that Antonio was two centuries old…for all Lovino knew, he had been alone all that time. A long moment of silence wedged its way between them before Lovino laid back down, pulling the covers over him, "Hey…thanks."

He sensed eyes back on him, _"For what?"_

Lovino tightened his fist around some of the loose sheets, refusing to let a blush come to his face, "For…for calming me down the other night." Blush.

Antonio beamed. Literally. The intensity of that smile made it so Lovino could freaking _feel_ it. _"It's no problem. Sleep well, okay?"_

Lovino started to panic. Was Antonio going to leave? He didn't know why, but that bothered him greatly, "Wait!"

_"Hm?"_

"Uh…" the Italian huffed, "Don't leave, okay? Stay here."

A long pause.

_"You're so cute!"_ Large arms suddenly around him. Wait…wait…CHE?!

"Get off, bastard!" They let him go, "You know what? Fine! I changed my mind, leave!" His face burned so hot that he felt it would melt off his bones at any second.

_"Oh, Lovi…" _The tone of voice suggested that Antonio was pouting, _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll stay."_

"Hmph." Lovino buried himself back into his blankets, face cooling as he closed his eyes; though his head rang with a thousand thoughts and questions…he doubted he'd be sleeping anytime soon. Maybe Antonio could… "Oi, bastardo."

_"Sí?" _

"If you want…you can do your calming thingy."

And then the room felt peaceful, serene. Like a warm day on the beach, or in a forest without bugs…

Or like a lullaby.

_Antonio's singing me a lullaby…_he thought dreamily, leaning into the warm embrace of the sensation with his mind. Somehow, he really liked that concept, and that's what eventually lulled him to sleep.

…

There was an angel sleeping in his room. That was the only way he could describe the utter beauty radiating from the resting Italian, whose hair was strewn about the pillow and shell-pink lips parted to allow air. Antonio sat cross-legged on the bed next to him, attempting to take in every bit of the boy as he could before he too was taken away. It seemed that a lot of things were easily taken from Antonio…maybe he didn't fight hard enough.

_Maybe if I had given it my best, I could have saved Roma. _He closed his eyes, resting his head in his palm, _we could have grown old together and died together…he wouldn't have been alone.__** I**__wouldn't have been alone. _

He barely even noticed his lids sliding open, pupils moving to stare down at the born-again angel. No more loneliness for either of them… Roma was back.

"Did you know you had left me behind?" He found himself asking, his hands moving on their own accord to brush away coppery hair from the boy's face. Lovino smacked his lips, shifting slightly against the pillow. "Did you come back for me?" In reality, the truth behind Roma coming back was probably something like, _bastardo! I waited for __**centuries**__! Now I have to come back down __**there**__ and smack you for making me wait!_

Despite the guilt Antonio felt, he laughed. It was the exact kind of thing Roma would say and do. He felt awful, no matter how grateful he was, that Roma passed on God's Kingdom to rejoin Antonio…but the Spaniard wasn't complaining. He had gone two centuries without talking to another soul, and now he had his Roma. He truly couldn't be happier.

Then his mind flashed to the last night he saw Roma…the pain, the fear, the utter agony of knowing that Roma was in danger because of _him._ Antonio felt his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand from the anxiety of the memory, so he flash forwarded his mind to those words he heard Roma say…

_"I will find you again, and nobody will stop me. I promise."_

His cross felt heavy on his chest, burning against his imaginary skin like a branding iron. Roma had kept his promise…even though Antonio never kept his. He recalled a quote from a book he had read once, "Love is full of empty promises that keep meaning through years to come."

He doubted the book expected not only years, but centuries.

"Roma…" He breathed softly, bending himself to place a gentle kiss on the boy's hair-adorned cheek, "This time, I _will_ keep you safe."

The Italian whimpered as response, turning from his side to his back. His eyebrows were knitted together and the lids writhed slightly in a nightmare. Antonio had seen the boy like this before; a few times centuries ago, and once the night before. He did the only thing he knew helped, he started to sing... It was a small lullaby he had created the first night Roma had shared a bed with him, nothing special, but it did the trick.

_"Sleep my little Romanito,_

_ Close your eyes as the lights go down._

_ Sleep my little Romanito,_

_ Sweet and gentle dreams I wish for you tonight…"_

Lovino moved his body slightly, curling up closer to Antonio.

_"And if you should wake,_

_ Don't you ever worry, for I am here._

_ And if all the monsters haunt your dreams, _

_ Just think of me, for I will always protect you…"_

Antonio winced, voice trailing off. He sure had done a shitty job protecting…

Warmth. Sudden, intense warmth curled around his hand. He hadn't actually _felt_ something asides his own body in so long it caught him off guard and caused him to recoil, though the warmth never left his hand. He looked down, seeing numerous more fingers than was natural before he realized it was simply Lovino. Ah, yes. Roma did this as well…he unconsciously clutched hands during sleep, much like a babe would to its mother. Antonio allowed his body to respond, maneuvering his fingers to intertwine them more naturally and admiring the shade differences between their skins. He continued his song:

_"So sleep my little Romanito, _

_ Close your eyes for a night's rest_

_ Sleep my little Romanito, _

_ I am never far, so you don't need to fret._

_ And in the morning rub your eyes,_

_ Take in that orange, beautiful sunrise._

_ Down in the garden working hard,_

_ Hey, it's me! I have tomates for you._

_ Sleep my little Romanito, _

_ Fall into your dreams with these words from my heart…"_

Antonio broke off, unwilling to finish off the song. He may have meant it to Roma…but even if Lovino was the same person, he had to fall in love with him as well. Something about loving Roma's reincarnation simply because he was Roma seemed wrong…Antonio felt he had to love Lovino for Lovino, not for Roma.

But he couldn't help muttering out the last two words of the song,

_"…Te amo."_

.zZz.

The next day the Vargas family had a visitor. His name was Paul, as Feliciano found out, and he had two kids who lived with their mother, for he and his wife were separated, not divorced. Again, compliments of Feliciano's exploits. Paul was an electrician who had come to set the family's TV up as well as certain other devices. The house had been updated years ago, so it had numerous outlets and two bathrooms, but their grandfather couldn't figure out how to put up the TV to save his life.

At the very moment, Feliciano was in his room playing with that stupid cat, their grandfather was attempting to open the basement door without causing too much damage, And Lovino…well, Lovino was just minding his own business, checking out Paul's rather nice shoulders when _guess who_ showed up.

_"__**What **__is __**that**__?" _Antonio's absolute shock amused Lovino enough to make him chuckle. Paul looked back suspiciously, forcing Lovino to shut his mouth and act nonchalant. He waited for Paul to submerse himself back into his work before he turned his head, his replies only soft whispers.

"It's a television. We use it to watch current events and TV shows…it's like theatre inside the box."

He could feel the Spaniard gape, _"Is it magic…? How can you see productions on it?"_

Lovino groaned, "Ugh, you need to catch up with technology…okay. So, the TV is hooked up to wires that lead out to even bigger wires that beam signals up into space, which beams signals back and puts an image onto your television."

"Erm…I know how TV works, buddy." Paul said, eyeing a now blushing Lovino inquisitively.

"Oh…yeah," Lovino mumbled, "I was just…reminding myself…Also, don't call me buddy." Face aflame, he rushed out of the living room area Paul was working in, going to hide in the kitchen.

_"…Sorry…"_ Antonio apologized.

Lovino sighed, "You better be…the guy probably thinks I'm crazy." He rested his elbows against the counter, placing his forehead in his fingers, "Then again, _I_ think I'm crazy so I don't blame him."

_"Lovino—you're not crazy."_

"You barely know me, don't make assumptions." He straightened his back again, "Alright, so you told me you'd show me around."

_"Hm? Oh, Sí! Come on, I'll show you the barn~"_

"The…barn." Out of everything, the idiot wanted to show him the barn. Of course.

_"Mhm! Come on, let's go."_

Lovino walked to the backdoor, opening it with a simple turn and tug of his wrist. The backyard came into view, shining in all of its glory. A dragonfly whizzed past his head as he stepped out and he vaguely wondered how big they got here…perhaps he could catch one and see if the kitten was stupid enough to eat it. He laughed at the mental image, striding across the lawn, always feeling the presence of Antonio at his side. He couldn't explain how he could feel it…it was just like the atmosphere right next to him was bloating and sometimes it gave him chillbumps. Or maybe it was because he could just feel the idiot radiating the never ending cheeriness he seemed to possess. It could be either of the things.

The barn door creaked open loudly, hinges protesting against years upon years of abandonment. Lovino stopped in the doorway, squinting his eyebrows as something along the lines of recollection filled his being. He tried to place the feeling to a childhood memory, but he couldn't find one off the bat. Oh, wait. Now he could remember.

"Tch, this looks like the barn that my neighbors next to my old house had." He walked further into the room as gravity took hold on the uneven door and made it close on itself.

_"Really? That's neat! Yeah, there are a lot of memories in this barn…"_

Lovino waited, expecting the Spaniard to continue. When he didn't, the Italian rolled his eyes exasperatingly, "Oh _gee_ how interesting."

_"That was sarcasm, right?"_

Lovino blinked. Was this guy serious? "Erm…sí. Did they even use sarcasm back then?"

_"Not really. But I had a…friend…who taught me about it."_

"Psh, I'll bet the guy was the first person to use it. He's a genius, whoever he..erm, or she was."

A small moment of silence, _"Sí…he was."_

Oh God. This was getting awkward…okay, Lovino, think. "So…uh, what was this place like when you were—well, when it was up and running?" Wow. Lovino was actually being _considerate_ of his _words._ Something was very wrong here.

_"Hm…it was smelly." _Lovino snorted, _"But it was my favorite place to be. I loved the horses." _Antonio's voice was growing lighter, endearing, _"My favorite was a dark chestnut mare…she was given to me on my fifteenth birthday. She was beautiful, strong, fast, caring…her name was Melody. Right before I died, she twisted her foot though…" _The endearment in his tone grew just a bit sadder, _"I kind of wish I could ride her once again…but it's okay. Mmm, I don't know why I'm telling you this when I can just show you."_

Suddenly, Lovino felt fingertips on his temples and a slight tingle radiated from them. The sensation grew in intensity and if he had to describe it, it was like they were tickling his brain. He squeezed his eyes close uncomfortably, trying to worm away from whatever the bastard was doing.

"Open your eyes."

There was something different about Antonio's voice, Lovino realized. It seemed…alive. Like it had more sustenance. He cracked his eyes open just a smidge, and then allowed them to fly open as he took in the barn. There were horses lining one side of the barn; tall, proud, majestic…he could see two grey speckled horses, a roan, a peach, one midnight black, and finally he could see the chestnut mare that must have been Melody. A large pile of hay sat against the farthest wall, as did a ladder, the steps leading up to a hay loft he hadn't noticed before. He could smell—_smell—_horse manure and the wild scent of animals. A tapping made itself known at his feet, and when he looked down he saw chickens, vaguely realizing they had been squawking the whole time.

It was amazing…it was purely amazing…

"Wha-…_how…_?" The Italian sputtered, gaping around the room.

"Pretty remarkable, no?" Antonio said; his voice sounding so…_real_ and stirring hairs next to Lovino's ear. An involuntary shiver plagued the younger's spine, making him attempt leaning away, only to find the fingers were still on his temples. Antonio was behind him. He was _behind_ him. For a moment, Lovino just soaked up the feeling, his every nerve set on high alert.

_I can feel him breathe on me…I can feel his palms touch the sides of my head…I can hear his clothes rustling…I can __**feel**__ his body warmth…_

That's what struck Lovino. If he could _feel_ Antonio…_alive_…

"Can I see you too?" He finished his thought aloud, attempting to turn around and see the Spaniard…to see if he looks as amazing in person as he did in painting.

"Sí, but…" The idiot moved with Lovino, making it so the Italian got glimpses of an elbow or something, but never got to see the full thing, "I need to keep contact with your skin in order for this to keep working."

"I don't _care_," Lovino groaned, "I just want to—" He whirled, feeling the fingers shift and break away from his skin, the tingling gone with it but he didn't care.

He had seen green eyes.

Such _beautiful_ green eyes…Lovino found himself clinging to the memory as he stared at nothing, the smells and sounds of the barn dissipating like stars in the morning light. So full of every emotion imaginable, and he could see it all with just that one glimpse…

Antonio's eyes…they were as sad in real life as they were in the painting. Though they crinkled with a smile, they were unbelievably tortured with an unimaginable grief…

_I've been such a selfish person…_Lovino realized, _thinking that my life was bad when he's been through hell and back…_

_ "Well…there you have it."_ Antonio said after the silence continued longer than was necessary. Lovino was still staring at his eyes, though the Italian didn't know if his eyes were still there. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear a bird cawing. The same damn caw that would wake him up in the morning and annoy the hell out of him…

_I want him to be happy, _Lovino decided without replying to Antonio. _People with such vibrant eyes need vibrant emotions to fill them. _The bird seemed to screech in agreement.

But Antonio will never know what Lovino was thinking, Lovino wouldn't let him. Just because he wanted the bastard to be happy didn't mean he would tell him that…now now, anyways.

"I…I'm hungry, idiota!" Lovino growled, stomping to the door of the barn, before tilting his head back, "But…that was pretty cool." Without another word, he opened the door and left, scaring off a few pigeons and crows.

.zZz.

In two weeks, school would start at Kingsley High. Feliciano would be going into the tenth grade while Lovino would be starting his junior year.

Lovino was _not_ looking forward to it.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" Feliciano said, eating a cannoli.

Lovino laughed dryly, "Maybe for you…"

"It can be fun for you too," the younger sung, mouth full of pastry.

"Ew. Feliciano, please swallow before you sing. And no, it won't be…school just means I'll be thrown in with people I could care less for. Besides…I haven't been to a public school in two years."

Feliciano silenced for a bit, casting his gaze down, "Oh…right, I forgot."

Lovino sighed, "Whatever. I'm going to take a shower…"

"Alright. Wait, before you go, have you painted anything recently?"

"No. Why?"

"I want to hang some of your stuff…"

Lovino flushed, "Why? My stuff isn't any good. I don't care if Grandpa wants it or not, none of my paintings would be good enough to hang in this house anyways."

Feliciano winced, "Lovino…I wish you'd be nicer to yourself…you're really talented at painting and sketching and stuff."

Lovino shook his head, turning to walk away, "Yeah, whatever. If I make something even remotely good, I'll let you know."

"Okay…thanks."

Lovino didn't reply. He didn't particularly want to…yes, he did want to see his paintings on the wall, but he really didn't like his artwork. It just never spoke out. _Good_ artists like Picasso or Leonardo…they painted things that spoke. They poured emotion into their artwork…and while Lovino tried, he was never able to do so.

_"Why haven't you been to school in two years?" _Antonio asked suddenly, causing Lovino to yelp and jump.

"Chigi! What the Hell, Antonio?! Didn't we talk about you sneaking up on me?"

_"Lo siento. But why haven't you been to school?" _

Lovino shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his auburn hair, beginning his ascent to his bathroom. Paul, whom he hadn't noticed before, stared at him. Great.

_"Lovino?" _Antonio inquired after they entered the bathroom.

"Idiot, I haven't been to school because I was in the hospital, okay?"

_"You were?" _Antonio sounded so worried…so caring…

_How sweet…_Lovino found himself thinking without reason.

"Yeah but it's none of your business so back off."

_"I understand…but if you need to talk about it, I'm here, okay?"_

"Yeah…whatever. Like I'll need to." Lovino frowned, sitting on the floor and pulling his knees up to his chin. In truth, he _wanted_ to tell Antonio everything…but he was much too embarrassed and proud to do so. As he was lost in his thoughts, his watch beeped, telling him to take his medicine. He did so, taking note that he was almost out and needed to refill his prescription.

_"I've noticed you take that…whatever it is a lot. What's it for?"_

Lovino snapped his eyes up to glare at the wall, since he didn't know where Antonio was. "Nothing."

_"Come on…can't you at least tell me that?"_

Annoyed, Lovino growled out, "If you tell me how you died, I will."

He instantly regretted his words and looked down guiltily. That was an inappropriate question and he felt awful about it…but he had too much pride to take it back or say sorry.

Antonio was silent for a long time, making Lovino worry that he had left.

_"My death is nothing important."_

Frowning, Lovino looked back up, "…look, you don't have to tell me…I was just joking. Uh, this medicine has a lot to do with why I was in the hospital…that's all you need to know, so don't ask anymore, got it?"

He felt Antonio nod, _"Got it. I don't mind telling you about my death…I just don't really like thinking about it."_

Now Lovino was burning with curiosity. What if Antonio was crushed by a meteor? Or stomped by a raging goat? Or maybe he was a pirate and was killed in a brawl…

"Well, I won't _make_ you tell me," He muttered.

Antonio chuckled, seeming to contemplate telling him or not. After a minute, he spoke back up, his words holding a deadly clarity that raised Lovino's haunches and made his flesh pucker.

_"I was murdered."_

…

**Mehh, the ending was rushed but you know what, screw it. I gotta pack. **


	6. They Need To Take Seven

**I am so sorry at the delayed update! ^^;; Hah…A lot of crap happened, and then a lot of good things happened…so I've been enjoying those good things while they last. Don't blame me; you'd do the same~ Anyways~ how have you all been? **

_Don't ever laugh as the hearse goes by,  
For you may be the next to die._

There was a light beep as Lovino booted up his laptop, chewing his lip without really knowing he was doing so. The laptop was old; he had received it on his fifteenth birthday, the birthday before he went to the hospital. The startup screen was slow, much to his annoyance, so he had to wait until it finally loaded and he could type in the password he somehow still remembered.

_"I was murdered."_

Those words. They just kept flashing through his head, battering around his skull like a trapped bat. He clicked on the internet browser (Paul set up their internet that day) then put the cursor in the Google search engine, typing in his query.

_Carriedo family, Virginia, nineteenth century._

As he waited for the results to load, he went over the previous conversation in his head.

"Wait…murdered?"

_"Sí."_

"You…were murdered?!"

_"Yes, as I said."_

"Who would want to kill _you_?"

The atmosphere then got cold, and Antonio didn't answer him. Lovino desperately wanted the Spaniard to tell him, to ease his curiosity, but the only response he had to the question was the continually darkening mood in the bathroom. It wasn't _angry_ so much as it was sad…just so, so sad…

Antonio never did tell him who committed the murder, so Lovino had to shower with the burning curiosity eating his mind as if it was some sort of flesh-eating maggot…like the kind in Africa that grew under your skin…

And that's what led him to the computer to do some research. If Antonio wouldn't tell him, he'd find out for himself.

A long, grueling loading period passed by before the results finally appeared on the monitor. His eyes flicked between them quickly, trying to find what he was looking for. He ran a hand through his damp hair, reading each one for only a brief period of time.

_'Virginia homes…' _no, _'Nineteenth century homes,' _no…_ 'Famous families of the nineteenth..'_ Maybe. Let's keep looking, _'Virgi—' _No. _'Famil—' _No. _'West coas—' _No. NO. _NO. _

This was so frustrating! How goddamned hard was it to research one family?!

_'Carriedo Boy Goes Missing: Family in Ruins.'_

Oh.

A little relived to have found _some_ sort of lead, he clicked the link, which led him to some sort of historical website about nineteenth century Virginia. The specific page was titled: _Carriedo Mystery Home, by Nancy Camille._

_Huh. Strange…_he scrolled down, eyebrows furrowing together as he read the article.

'…_February 15, 1849. A beautiful, late-winter morning. The snow has been mild for the entire year and people are looking forward to a lovely spring. The town's wealthiest family, however, wakes up knowing something is off, though they don't quite know what it is. They go about their day normally before Mrs. Carriedo realizes she hasn't seen her son since the previous evening. The house goes into a pre-panic, staff and faculty rushing around, trying to find the missing member. Darkness falls once again and the boy has not returned. Authorities are immediately alerted, thus starting a fierce search for the wealthy heir._

'_After three months of endless scouting, the search is called off. No more than two weeks later, Mr. Carriedo died from unknown causes, sending the house down into an economic disaster. Mrs. Carriedo sold the home to the Historical Society as a last-effort, and the house has stayed with them until 1978, when it was sold to a new wealthy family, who own it to date._

'_Where did the Carriedo boy go? His body has never been found. Some sources suggest he is buried in the basement; which has been locked since the house was first sold in 1978. Other sources say he drowned in the nearby waters, or even that he ran away. Perhaps we'll never know.'_

Jesus…

Tugging more at his lip with his teeth, he clicked on one of the sources the page provided: _Hernandez Carriedo: Doctor, Father, and Savior._

'_Dr. Hernandez Carriedo(1803-1849). Possibly one of the most innovative physicians of his time period, yet he doesn't make the textbooks. His studies provided the stepping stone to nearly everything we know about the human body today, including his breakthrough discoveries of previously unknown organs. _

'_Despite his busy work, Dr. Carriedo made sure to provide the best life he could for his son, Antonio Carriedo(1830-?). He gave the boy the finest education, horses, tutors. It was the life any child could want. However, the boy disappeared tragically, throwing the doctor into a depression he eventually died from—_

"_If you want to know so much about my father, you should ask somebody who actually knew him." _The voice was bitter.

"Holy_ shit!_" Lovino shrieked (manly, of course), and slammed his laptop close instinctively. "How many time do I have to tell you _not to sneak up on me?!_"

"_Sorry." _He was so not sorry.

Glaring at nothing, Lovino placed his laptop to the side, "So…you'll tell me what happened?"

"_No. But I'll tell you about my father."_

…

Meh, close enough. "Fine then…" Then added as a side note, "secretive bastard…"

The sheets next to him rustled, indicating that Antonio had sat down. Lovino waited patiently for the Spaniard to start speaking, chewing his lip once again. _"My father…he was a brilliant man. There was no doubt about that."_

Lovino nodded, "He was a doctor, right?"

A pause, _"...yes. He was respected as well. Respect he didn't deserve." _Antonio's voice became cold and harsh, as if somebody had coated his vocal chords with dry ice.

Oh god. Here come the goosebumps…

Somehow sensing Lovino's anxiousness, Antonio quickly interjected, _"I don't want to talk about that, though. No. Just…know my father was not a good, kind person. Brilliant, no doubt, but not kind. Sure, on the outside he seemed that way but…I knew who he really was."_

"And…who was he?" Lovino asked, curiosity peaked.

"_I really don't want to talk about it. Not now." _Lovino frowned again. Why was this guy so full of secrets?

"So you didn't like him?"

"_No. Not for the last month or so of my life. I couldn't even look at the man without cringing…"_

Lovino winced, "Tch. What made him so freaking bad?"

"_You…you don't even know the half of it, Lovino."_

No shit. You won't even _tell_ me the half of it.

Antonio sighed, and the rustling increased. Lovino assumed the Spaniard had lain down.

"So…it that it? That's all you're going to tell me!?"

"_For now…sí."_

Exasperated, Lovino groaned, "Come on! You can't just…not tell me these things…"

"_Lovino…I'm not keeping things from you because I don't want you to know…no, I'm doing it because I don't want to burden you with it. I have a bad past…there's no reason my past should affect the present."_

Lovino huffed, "…whatever. I can handle it, you know."

Antonio seemed to consider the words, allowing a heavy silence to blanket the room. A bit tired, Lovino laid down as well, making sure he was as far from where he assumed the dead guy was.

Finally he spoke up, _"…I was in love, you know."_

Taken a little off guard, Lovino had a harder time answering. "And…I should care because…?" Because you're jealous, dumbass.

Wait. What.

"_You want to learn more about my past, sí? Well this is part of my past. I…well. Hm. How do I explain this…basically, we weren't accepted by...well, by anybody. We were too taboo to be accepted." _

Eyebrow raised, Lovino snorted sarcastically, "What. Did you get her pregnant?"

"_Her..? Oh, Lovino. You really are dense! Haha.." _

The Italian bristled, "I am not dense!"

"_You kind of really are~ Aha, no. We were taboo because…don't be frightened by this…" _Antonio seemed to take a deep breath, _"We were both men, Lovino."_

Oh, they were both men. That's chill.

Wait…they…

…

…they were both _men?_

…

_**There were actual homosexuals in nineteenth century Virginia?**_

"_Well…there weren't __**a lot**__ of homosexuals…"_ Oh shit, did Lovino say that out loud? _"But I know me and him were together."_

Lovino swallowed, trying to process the information.

_Alright Lovino. What do you know now?_

_1) Antonio is into men._

_2) I am a man._

_3) I'm into men._

_4) He is a man. _

…

…

5) …_We…we might have a chance together…_

_**No no no no! Shut up, Lovino! **__**He's **__dead __**you Italian pervert! AND he's probably suffering from heartbreak as well as the pain of being murdered!**_

** "**What…what was his name?" Lovino found himself asking, the words leaving his lips like a fish hooked on a fishing line.

Lovino could feel Antonio smile softly, morosely, _"His name was Roma."_

_ Roma…kind of like Romano, huh?_

"What was he like?" Lovino once again found himself asking, voice having grown soft and tentative, "Not that I care, though."

_"Ah…" _Antonio chuckled, seeming to have lost himself in a whole other world. _"To be frank…he was amazing. He was smart, he was handsome, he was funny…and though he would never admit it, he was very kind. He made my last few months alive the best months I had lived." _Suddenly Lovino felt eyes on him, and he could sense the pressure of being examined, _"…He was a lot like you, actually. Physically and mentally. He used harsh words when he was feeling vulnerable; he blushed a lot…he had auburn hair, though it was a little lighter than yours. He had the strange curl you have, and the same body shape." _Antonio picked up Lovino's hand, much to the latter's surprise, and entwined their fingers, thus setting off a furious blush on Lovino's face, _"Our hands fit together perfectly…exactly like this." _And then a soft touch made itself known on Lovino's cheek, _"And the hair on the side of his face…it made a cute little swirl…just like yours does."_

Face probably melting off his bones now, Lovino stuttered, "B-bastard…what are you trying to say?"

_"…Nothing." _All of the contact left his skin, _"But I do believe it's possible you two are related."_

_ He's lying._

"…Right." Lovino said, eyes narrowing. For the sake of playing along, he muttered, "So you and this relative of mine were some sort of a thing?"

Seemingly satisfied that Lovino had fallen for the lie, Antonio responded, _"Sí. I was so in love with him…I had plans to somehow marry him, you know. Or at least run away with him. We were so close to doing so, too…until I died."_

Feeling somewhat cool and detective-like, Lovino started to piece it together in his mind, _Maybe this Roma guy was just in it for Antonio's money…so he killed him and ran off. _"Do you know what happened to Roma?"

The atmosphere saddened to a point Lovino hadn't felt before, causing him to want to abandon all his manliness and hug Antonio better. Not that he'd _ever_ do that, of course.

_"I…I __**hope**__ that he escaped…" _Antonio's voice was quivering…so scared and hopeless…it broke Lovino's (_manly, dammit!) _heart. _"But I never actually watched him do so…I told him…I…agh, let's go to the barn. I'd rather show you."_

Lovino blinked, "Wait, now?"

_"Sí….por favor? It'll only be a few minutes…"_

Lovino groaned and got up. (_How could he say no to somebody so heartbroken?)_ "Fine."

Together (or at least Lovino assumed, judging from the air pressure behind him), they walked down the staircase and into the large family room, through the dining room, into the kitchen, then out the back doors. The day was already coming close to an end; the crickets had started their orchestra and the sun's last rays were peaking over the house. Fireflies danced around his feet while he walked to the barn, and once he reached it, he stuck his hand out to open the door…

…when something caught his eye.

It was just a small glimpse of movement in the trees; he was honestly surprised he even noticed it at all. He glared and scoured the forest for more movement…

_"…Lovino? Aha, I don't mean to bother you or anything but…can you open the door~? I want to get this over with."_

Reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the foliage, he opened the door and stepped in.

_"Alright…remember, you're going to be me…" _Antonio said, placing his fingers at Lovino's temples, _"So…this is going to hurt. I'm so sorry…"_

"What…?" Then it happened. The tingling, tickling sensation that emitted from the fingers and pooled at the base of his skull. Lovino was greatful when it subsided…until the real pain started.

_Oh God…_

It felt like a fire was set inside his chest, the flames licking up through his ribcage and in his lungs. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his head pounded violently. Lovino wanted nothing more than to double over and clutch his chest, but he found he could not. He couldn't even speak. The only thing connecting him to the fact this wasn't really happening was Antonio's fingers on his head.

Then he was moving, as if his legs had sprouted their own mind, walking towards a haystack on the back wall. He hadn't noticed the figure lying on the pile until it sat up, it growing larger as Lovino made each painful step closer. Once he was nearly next to it, his legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground.

_Oh God…it hurts…_

The other figure—Roma, Lovino assumed, though he was still shrouded in shadow, immediately leaned forward to cup his face. The small gesture calmed Lovino's mind (Which was rampant with fear at the moment), and Lovino leaned into it.

_What is happening…? Is…is this the day that Antonio died…?_

Almost as if answering his thought, Lovino said in a voice that wasn't his, "I'm going to die tonight."

Behind Lovino, he could hear Antonio shift. The poor guy was probably trying to stop himself from turning and running…

In front of him, the figure was silent for a moment, "…Are you certain?"

Lovino felt himself nod, "Sí. He's going to find me, and then he'll find you…" Lovino was struck suddenly with an unimaginable grief, and began pleading with Roma, "You need to run, _now_, and get out of here while you can…"

Once again, Roma was completely silent and still for a second, before his head lowered, "I can't leave you…I just can't."

Lovino sat back, being controlled like a puppet, and pulled Roma with him. Antonio had to maneuver in order not to lose contact, especially as the two embraced each other.

…And then they were kissing. Under normal circumstances, that would have been weird…but Lovino couldn't find it weird at all. The kiss was painful, it meant goodbye, and it meant no hope. Tears sprang into his eyes…and he didn't think they were Antonio's.

After they pulled back for air, Roma's hands fisted and he whispered with deadly sincerity, "I _will_ find you again someday, and nobody will stop me. I promise."

His heart swelling from the words, Lovino embraced Roma again, though he was still sad. "Go, take a horse, and take anything you need. I'll distract him." He pushed strands of hair out of Roma's face, and was met with startling grey eyes. Yet…they weren't entirely grey. Even in the dim moonlight, Lovino could sense there were bits of olive in there. He whispered the last part quietly, "I'll be waiting beside God for you."

Lovino stood up, Antonio keeping contact with his skin, and pulled something out of his boot. He looked down at it, and realized it was a dagger…

_Wait. I've seen this before._

He handed it to Roma, who hissed, "You'll need this, idiot!"

Lovino kissed Roma's head, chuckling sadly. "You take it. I won't need it much longer."

And then the scene faded away, like a cloud of smoke into the atmosphere, and Lovino vaguely realized that Antonio's fingers had left him.

It was silent for a long time.

And it was silent as they walked back into the house.

And it was silent as Lovino climbed into bed, curling up in the sheets, unable to forget the absolute _pain_ Antonio had shown him—not physically, emotionally. The agony Antonio had felt…knowing that would be the last time he'd see Roma in the flesh…

Then the silence was broken by a sob leaving Lovino's lips. Another one followed in suit, and soon he was crying out, more painfully than he had in his whole life.

_"Lovino?! Are you alright?!" _Antonio…why did he care so much? Why was he so concerned about Lovino and his well-being?

"Y-you…bastard…" Lovino whimpered between tears. Unknowingly, he reached a hand out and grasped fabric that wasn't there, "You….f-f-f…cking….bas..bastard…" Fat droplet rolled down his cheeks, face contorted in a grimace.

_"Ah…Lovino…" _ The fabric under his fingers moved, and instead he felt something pull him close. He _should_ have freaked out at that…but he found he couldn't. _"I'm so sorry…I shouldn't have made you view that…"_

Antonio was sorry about that? Lovino wasn't. Lovino was more than happy that he had been able to view Antonio's memory like that…it was something he would never give up.

Lovino was sorry for a whole different reason.

"I'm…I'm so _sorry_, An..Antonio…" He clutched at what he knew was Antonio, "I-I'm so..so..so _sorry…_"

Antonio didn't have to ask what, he already knew. Instead he just held Lovino, the way he once held Roma many years ago.

And on the nightstand sat a dagger, whose hilt gleamed with blue and purple gems, once belonging to a boy named Antonio Carriedo….

….who had given it to the one he loved most.

.zZz.

The next morning, Lovino woke up somewhat early. He opened his eyes to look at the clock on his nightstand, which read 9:00 a.m. He closed his eyes again. Yes, much too early for summer. Oh well, may as well get used to it.

He stretched his arms out slightly, the blanket around his torso restricting his movement. Shifting slightly to get more comfortable, he found the blanket wouldn't give him allowance to do so. Ugh, he must have twisted up the blanket underneath him. How annoying. After a few more failed attempts at blindly unwrapping himself, he opened his eyes…

…Oh. My. Fucking. God.

An arm was wrapped around his waist, completely nonchalant, acting as if it was supposed to be there. The fingers were long and tan, the hand was fucking _ginormous_, and a black sleeve covered the arm.

It took Lovino a matter of two seconds to deploy the IPDE process.

Investigate: there's a _motherfucking arm around me_.

Predict: The owner of the arm is probably some _pedophile rapist _or something! He's gonna fucken _rape me!_

Decide: I'm totally going to _rip_ this guy's _balls_ off! Like the badass Italian I am!

Execute: …..

…

…

With a (_manly) _screech, Lovino threw himself away from the arm, effectively tumbling off the bed.

"Wh-what? Lovino, what's wrong?" Antonio flailed slightly, trying to sit up to look at Lovino.

"_There's a __**pedophile rapist in my bed!**_**" **Lovino cried, crawling away until he hit the wall.

Antonio peered at the Italian, and then looked at the bed, seeing nobody. "Ah…uh…where?"

Lovino stared up at Antonio fearfully, admiring somewhere in the back of his mind how pretty Antonio's eyes were in the sunlight.

"He's right there!" Lovino stood up, then froze, "Wait…Wait…"

As he was gathering his thoughts, he could see long legs, adorned in riding boots, some sort of pants, and a black shirt…all being worn by Antonio…

Antonio…

...

...

"Oh my God," Lovino whispered, eyes growing wide, "I can _see_ you."


End file.
